


All Hallow's Eve

by Vellenox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Halloween, Horror, M/M, October
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vellenox/pseuds/Vellenox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the night before Halloween - better known as Devil's Night - when Stiles and Scott first come face to face with the horror that will shake Beacon Hills to its core. After Mr. Harris's odd disappearance the boys dread what may happen at Lydia's famous Halloween party. With the help of deputy Hale (secretly a werewolf), Stiles, Scott, and Isaac will unmask the terror behind their fear and recent hallucinations, and hopefully put an end to it before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this the only werewolves are the remaining Hale family members - Scott, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd are all still human. The Argents are still hunters, but not as die-hard (they stick to the code). This is my first attempt at a horror piece, so bare with me.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!” Scott hissed, anxiously wiping his palms against his jeans. Stiles rolled his eyes and shifted, trying to get rid of the dull ache growing in his knees. They were crouched side by side, hidden in the shadows at the edge of Mr. Harris’s house. Getting their teacher’s address had been pretty easy – all it took was a little palm greasing of one Miss Schultz, one of the more liberal minded secretaries at Beacon Hills High. They managed to convince her that their intentions were purely innocent (except they totally weren’t – which is why they were stalking around in shadows and being as silent as possible).

Stiles raised a finger to his lips and gave his friend a warning glare. Scott huffed out a breath of frustration but remained quiet after that.

Stiles pulled out his phone and tapped the screen to light it up. The clock read half past eleven. It was almost time.

He motioned at Scott, silently giving him the command to unload the bag they’d brought along with them. Scott gave Stiles one last look of disapproval before obeying; he unzipped the bag slowly and reached inside to grab the carton full of eggs and rolls of toilet paper. He handed the eggs to Stiles and held one of the rolls, looking increasingly like he was about to vomit on Stiles’s shoes.

Stiles grabbed his friend’s shoulder and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “No backing out now Scotty.” He met his friend’s eyes with a hard stare of his own. Scott sighed, shaking his head.

“Let’s just do this thing and get out of here – before anyone catches us!” Scott replied, slowly rising out of his crouched position and readying the toilet paper. Stiles grinned, a small madness there creeping out that made the expression resemble that of the Cheshire Cat.

Harris deserved this. He deserved this and _more_ , but they only had a small window of opportunity.

Stiles watched the street and tensed when he saw headlights approaching fast down the road. They belonged to one of tonight’s police patrol cars – considering it was Devil’s Night the majority of the police force were out and watching even the quietest neighbourhoods closely.

Stiles had planned accordingly, glimpsing at his father’s roster sheet to see who would be where when. If he remembered correctly, this would be the last patrol until one A.M. on this particular street. That gave them an hour to successfully execute operation ‘Fuck You Mr. Harris’ and get the hell out of dodge before anyone even noticed something was amiss.

They could’ve chosen a different night, one with less of a chance of them being caught, but Stiles had insisted it be the night before Halloween for several reasons. One, it was extremely important they upheld the timeless tradition of participating in shenanigans on the same night everyone else was out doing it. Two, since other people _were_ out creating all sorts of havoc and chaos the police would have more than one person to blame for a house being vandalized. Three, this was the only night Isaac wasn’t going to be around, which freed Scott up for some much needed bro-bonding time.

That was the most important reason, really.

Ever since Scott and Isaac got together it seemed like Scott spent more time with Isaac than he did breathing, eating, and sleeping. Stiles was happy for Scott, he really, really was, but even though they lived under the same roof now they barely saw each other. And that was really upsetting.

So they were going to get this done and bond and make up for the fact that they hadn’t done anything together like this in _ages_.

As soon as the patrol car disappeared down the dimly lit street, Stiles crept out into the open, no longer hidden behind the corner of the house. He slowly advanced into the front yard, exposed in the open space but still shrouded in the shadows of the night. So long as no one was watching they would be safe.

He waved at Scott to urge him to follow, and he begrudgingly complied. Once they were almost at the front porch Stiles stopped, causing Scott to walk face first into his back. “Dude!” Scott whined and Stiles shushed him aggressively, spittle flying from his lips. He opened the carton carefully and pulled out a couple of the eggs, weighing them in his hand as he took a deep breath.

They were actually doing this. It didn’t really register until then, right on the cusp of committing an actual felony. He couldn’t back out now though; he hadn’t let Scott bail so he had to go through with this, otherwise he’d be a hypocrite, and there were a lot of things Stiles identified as but a hypocritical coward was not one of them.

He held his breath and wound up, targeting one of the windows on the top floor. “Wait-,” Scott protested, grabbing Stiles’s wrist before he could release the egg. He was about to fight against Scott’s grip when he realized why Scott had stopped him.

Someone was watching them.

A figure stood across the street with their hands in their pockets and a hood pulled up around their face. Stiles squinted to try and make out specific details but the street lights overhead were too dim and the baggy sweater they were wearing masked their body type.

Stiles lowered his arm and Scott tugged on his wrist. “Who _is_ that?” He asked, his voice low and full of worry. Stiles frowned and waited for the remarkably still figure to do something.

They didn’t.

Stiles shrugged, trying to ignore the daunting feeling of dread bubbling up inside of him. His fight or flight instincts were prepped and ready, and his skin prickled, the hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing on edge. There was something off about the figure, something Stiles couldn't quite place.

Several long seconds passed before Scott nudged him again. “Maybe we should go.” He hissed, and the moment he stopped talking the person across the street seemed to tilt their head until it was poised at an odd angle. It was eerie and creepy and Stiles was having none of this Friday the 13th bullshit. Freddie Krueger was not about to impede on their bro-time.

“Yo,” he hollered, throwing caution to the wind, “get outta here you fucking creep!” Scott let out a pleading whine but Stiles ignored him. Without really thinking it through, he chucked the egg towards whoever it was, hoping it’d be enough to scare them off.

It wasn't.

The egg smashed on the ground, yoke and shell splattering at the hooded person’s feet. Slowing they tilted their head down towards the mess. The movement was stiff, almost robotic.

“Stiles!” Scott whispered, his voice now harsh and panicked. Stiles could feel a rush of fear rising within himself now too. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, and his hands were shaking with the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

It only got worse when the shadowed figure looked back up at them – rigid and ominous - and though Stiles couldn’t see their eyes, it was almost like he could _feel_ the intense rage inside the heavy gaze piercing through Scott and him. A wave of freezing cold fear began crawling up him, starting in his legs and paralyzing him to the spot.

“Scott?” Stiles asked, his voice cracking and betraying the terror he felt. Scott whimpered his reply. They both felt it – the fear gripping at their hearts and making it impossible for them to look away, pinning them to the spot.

The person took a steady step towards them and Stiles’s stomach felt like it was trying to turn in on itself; rip itself apart. He tried to turn, hoped Scott and him could outrun whoever it was, but he remained rooted to the spot. They were both literally paralyzed.

As the figure got closer his limbs felt heavier and heavier, growing numb and buzzed as he tried to fight against whatever he was experiencing. Scott was panting beside him, and the sound of his friend’s stuttered breaths reminded Stiles that even though Scott’s asthma had gotten better, it wasn’t entirely cured.

And that was a problem; but it was still only secondary.

The steady approach of this stranger had progressed until they were on their side of the street, only a few paces away from where Scott and Stiles were presently trapped. Stiles didn’t know how he knew, but he had a strong feeling whoever it was, was dangerous. They needed to get out of there before the person got any closer.

But he still couldn’t move, and he couldn’t look away, and he found himself regretting any of the decisions he’d made that night because they were possibly about to be murdered by some freaky fucking mysterious being – who Stiles wasn’t entirely convinced was human _at all_ because he had a vivid imagination and where logic fell short he was very quick to assume the worst.

So, either they were about to be killed and harvested for their organs, or this was just some really not-amusing-at-all prank that Jackson or Aiden and Ethan were trying to pull on them; which, not fucking cool at all.

Just as he was about to attempt to open his mouth and _scream_ , there was a sound behind them that seemed to catch the hooded person’s attention. As soon as whatever it was, or whoever it was, looked away from them, they instantly regained control over their limbs. Stiles turned quickly, grabbing at Scott’s shoulder roughly to get him turned and running as well.

“Who the hell-?” Harris’s impatient voice broke the unsettling silence, but was cut off abruptly. As Stiles and Scott ran, hopping over whatever obstacles got in their way, the only thing he could hear above his own quick steps across the pavement and Scott’s still stuttered breathing, was the sound of Harris's grunts.

And then a blood curdling scream that boiled Stiles’s blood and would remain imprinted in his memory for the rest of his life.

«†»


	2. Chapter 2

“Do we know what just happened?” Scott asked, panting to try and get his lungs working properly again. He took a few hits from his puffer, which helped, but he was still having a really difficult time trying to regulate normal oxygen flow.

Stiles was doubled over and panting almost as much as Scott. He looked up, his brow creased in a frown. “No idea, and honestly? I don’t want to know.” He shook his head, the scream still a vibrating, ringing in his head. He began to think about Harris, and what that sort of scream might mean, but jerked himself away from the possibilities forming in his head.

All he needed to focus on was the fact that he and Scott had gotten out of there, and that they were still a few blocks from home.

He straightened himself out and patted Scott on the shoulder. “Come on, we’re almost to the house.” He started walking down the street with Scott close beside him. When they finally reached their front door Scott stopped and turned to Stiles, a grimace souring his features.

“If my mom finds out-,” he started and, as if on cue, the front door swung open. Melissa stood there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looked extremely perturbed. Stiles momentarily contemplated making a run for it.

“Hello boys,” she said and took a step to the side to allow them inside, “Mind telling me what you’ve been up to?” Stiles started for the stairs but Melissa grabbed his shoulders and redirected him towards the living room. She sat them both down and stood in front of them, waiting patiently for them to explain themselves.

“Scott forgot his backpack at Isaac’s,” Stiles started to explain but stopped when Melissa’s eyebrow arched inquisitively.

“Really? Because, correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought Isaac was pulling a double shift today, inhibiting my son from visiting him at all.” She turned her gaze on Scott now, who was fidgeting guiltily in his seat. He wouldn’t even look at her.

“Uh, yeah, but I left it there when I dropped him off after school.” Scott lied, and good god he was terrible at it. It sounded more like a question rather than a statement. Stiles just about smacked a hand to his forehead.

Melissa pursed her lips and looked at the both of them with a stern glare that made Stiles practically relive what had happened on Harris’s front lawn. “Look boys, I understand you’re teenagers and you want independence away from John and me, but really? _Tonight_ you choose to sneak out?” She sighed, shaking her head. “Both of you go to your rooms; we’ll wait until John gets back to figure out how we want to handle your punishments.” Both boys groaned.

Stiles wasn’t looking forward to _that_ conversation. Luckily there wasn’t much their parents could threaten them with; as far as punishments went the only thing that could be taken away from them was spending time with their significant others – prohibiting Scott from talking to Isaac, and taking away Stiles’s x-box.

This time was a little different though. Since tomorrow night was Halloween, it meant that Lydia Martin was throwing a party. _The_ party. Basically everyone was invited, even outcasts like Scott and Stiles. They already had permission from John and Melissa to go as long as they promised that they’d be home before midnight, and that they wouldn’t indulge in any illegal substances like booze or drugs.

So far they’d been looking forward to going – Scott was dressing up as Spock, Isaac was going to be Captain Kirk, and Stiles was going as – wait for it – Robin. But not Robin from the movies or Teen Titans or anything lame like that. No. He was going as Robin from Batman: Arkham City. Which was totally the BAMFest Robin in existence hands down.

As Stiles dragged his feet up the stairs after being sent to his room, Scott nudged Stiles’s arm with his shoulder. “Dude, should we tell her what happened?” He asked nervously, glancing down the stairs to make sure his mom wasn’t around to hear him.

Stiles shook his head. Telling either of their parents would be one of the absolute _worst_ ideas ever. “ _Hell_ no. We shouldn’t tell anyone. We shouldn’t talk about it _ever_ again.” Stiles answered and led the both of them into his room. He jumped onto his bed and slid his arms under his head. He stared up at the ceiling and phased out for a moment, his vision blurring and his mind emptying itself of most thoughts.

“But what if something really bad happened?” Scott asked, his voice straining with anxiety. Stiles snapped back into focus and tilted his head to raise an eyebrow at Scott.

“We don’t know if anything happened. And if something _did_ happen… we’ll deal with it. But not right now. Right now Stiles needs some much needed _rest and relaxation_.” He pulled the covers over himself and burrowed as deeply as he could. He heard Scott exhale loudly and then get up from the chair to leave the room.

He closed the door behind himself and only then did Stiles peek out from under the blankets. He stared at the door for a long time, replaying the scene in front of Harris’s house over in his head to try and make sense of it. He checked the clock on his bedside table a few times, watched the minutes slowly toll by as a growing sense of impending doom deepened in the pit of his stomach.

The last thing he remembered was seeing _1:45 A.M._ in bright red letters before sleep inevitably overcame him.

«†»


	3. Chapter 3

_He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t see and his heart was pounding too hard in his chest. The darkness felt like a crushing force squeezing the air out of his lungs and suffocating him. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge – the panic turning his stomach acrid, the bitter burn of bile scorching the back of his throat._

_Stiles gasped, trying to suck mouthfuls of air back into his lungs; but the pain was unbearable. He felt hands grabbing at his chest, but couldn’t tell if they belonged to him or not. As far as he was aware his body was too pressed down for him to move. He tried to struggle against the weight but it was all too much._

_It was like he was paralyzed again, and as soon as he realized it, a horror gripped his heart and squeezed it hard. He wanted to scream but his lips barely parted, and the silence that enveloped him was as thick as the darkness._

_His thoughts were a jumbled mess – panicked and rushed, and blurred. Every time he reached out for a thought it would slip away, leaving him feeling more alone and disoriented than before, which only heightened the fear growing inside of him._

_It all grew worse when suddenly in the darkness there was_ emptiness _. A void that swallowed up even the darkest of shadows._

_Stiles’s entire body prickled; his skin feeling ice cold and his limbs stiff and sore. The emptiness kept growing bigger and bigger, overwhelming the darkness and ever expanding, reaching out towards him. He tried to pull away from it, replace it faster than it could be taken away._

_With a violent jerk the scene changed; in the place of darkness was sunlight and trees, instead of silence he could hear someone laughing happily, chirping excitedly. He knew something about it was strange – but then he’d already forgotten what it was. Whatever fear he’d felt before had dimmed so considerably it was like it had never been there. What had he been so afraid of?_

_He looked over at his mother and smiled warmly at her. She chuckled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulled him in to kiss him on his temple. Across from them sat his father, looking at them with fond exasperation. His mother had just made a joke at his dad’s expense, but it was funny and cute, and his father was forgiving. His mom reached over and gave his dad’s hand a tight squeeze, wordlessly saying how much she loved him, and how much she loved teasing him._

_Stiles rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He was happy here. The sunlight was warm on his skin, the trees danced in the wind that didn’t quite seem to touch him, and his parents looked genuinely happy. His mom radiated it, even._

_And then it all seemed to stutter, like a hiccup that tore apart this reality for a single moment in time. That’s all it took for the emptiness to return – and with it the fear, anxiety, and paralysis._

_The emptiness took it all away from him. All of it. It engulfed the trees and the sun and left a gaping hole in Stiles’s heart. His mother’s face began to fade and blur, and a whole new panic settled in. Because he_ could not lose her _. Not again. But the void was stealing her away from him, and there was a sense of loss stuck inside of him that he’d never be able to shake._

_And he was crying. He felt the tears wet on his cheeks._

And he reached up to wipe them away; their dampness tickling his skin. He blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness in his room. This world was solid and linear, and as he sat up in his bed he recognized it had all been a nightmare. That realization should’ve been enough to relieve the aching in his chest, but it didn’t.

He propped his back up against the wall and pulled his knees up tight to his chest. He breathed in deeply, trying to settle his stomach and breathing. Someone knocked on his door but he ignored it, hoping whoever it was would assume he was asleep and not disturb him. He didn’t need anyone to see him like this.

Unfortunately for him things seldom went the way he wanted them to. His father slowly opened the door and poked his head inside, scanning the room until his eyes landed on his son curled up in his bed. At first his expression was perplexed but it soon melted into fatherly concern.

“Stiles?” He asked, his voice unsure. Stiles sniffed and wiped at his face, trying to erase all of his emotions before his dad could see how completely torn apart he was. The sheriff pushed his way inside his son’s room and only hesitated a moment before sitting down on the bed next to him. There was a long silence. “Is there anything I can do?” His voice was small.

Stiles squeezed his eyes tightly shut, hoping the pounding in his head would go away. It didn’t though, and when he reopened his eyes he saw just how worried his father was. “I just…” Stiles trailed off, taking a deep breath in. “I had a nightmare. About mom.” That’s all his father needed to hear before his arms wrapped around him in a comforting hug.

“I’m sorry.” His dad said quietly, his voice tight with trying to hold back his own overwhelming feelings, and that made Stiles feel even worse. It’d been almost three years now and his father was still apologizing for something he didn’t have any control over. Something that wasn’t in any way his fault.

He pulled away and wiped at his face, taking a deep breath to make sure his voice didn’t shake. “Why are you home?”

His father wiped away his own tears and cleared his throat. “Shift just ended.” He paused, and the silence was heavy. He looked like he wanted to say something, and whatever that something was it was difficult for him to voice. Finally he sighed. “You should try and get some sleep.” He stood from the bed and hesitated, watching his son slowly rest his head back down on his pillow. “You just call for me if you need anything, okay? You know I’m just down the hall.”

Stiles groaned, wishing his father would stop worrying about him. If cracking inappropriate jokes and pretending to be indifferent did that, then that’s what he’d do. “Don’t worry dad, I’m fine. But if I need someone to chase away the monsters hiding under my bed I know which Sheriff I need to call.”

His dad raised an eye brow at his son’s quip but said nothing as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Stiles let out a relieved breath. He brought both hands up to his face and rested them over his eyes, pressing just hard enough to see static shapes and colours in the darkness. He stayed that way for a while, breathing in deeply.

He slowly relaxed, though not nearly enough to be able to sleep again. He’d toss and turn for the rest of the night and rise when the sun broke through his blinds. He’d be a walking zombie for the rest of the day, but at least he’d fit in with the whole theme of the Night of the Living Dead for Halloween.

«†»


	4. Chapter 4

Derek jolted awake – his claws and fangs already extending as his instincts overwhelmed him in his sleepy state. His room was dark and still, just as it had been when he’d finally managed to fall asleep. The only thing that had changed was the scent hanging in the air, almost suffocating him.

It was the unmistakable stench of rotting flesh and rusty blood.

He kicked the covers away from his feet and slowly stood from his bed. Through the walls of the house he could hear both of his sisters stirring as well, but other than that only the sounds of night and its nocturnal creatures made any noise at all.

He crossed his room and pulled at the door, taking a cautious peek into the hallway before opening it all the way. He saw Laura’s door open a crack directly across from his own room, and Cora was already standing in the hallway half shifted and sniffing at the air with a curious frown on her face. “Do you guys smell that too?” She asked, and from Laura’s doorway came a harsh _shush_ that had Cora furrowing her eyebrows and crinkling her nose in annoyance.

Laura growled and stepped through her doorway, her eyes glowing a vibrant red. “Let it pass.” She hissed, and Cora let out a low grumble. The three of them stood there rooted to the spot for what seemed like forever, but in reality only ten minutes or so passed at a snail-like pace. The whole time Derek was ready to protect his sisters from whatever danger there was, his wolf pacing below the surface ready to make a kill.

Finally the smell seemed to thin, losing potency. Along with it went whatever it was that spiked Derek’s instincts, and as the threat diminished he found himself relaxing, his nerves unbundling. He shifted back into his human form. “What the hell was that?” He asked, his voice still a little gruff from sleep. Laura pursed her lips and stared at her brother for a long moment.

“I don’t know. But it wasn’t good.” She glanced over at Cora and gave her younger sister an unimpressed glower. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? School in the morning.” She said with an authority in her voice that came close to matching their mother’s. Cora rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, but she obeyed the unspoken command and disappeared back into her bedroom, leaving the door open a crack behind her.

Laura fixed her attention on Derek next. “Don’t even try to send me to bed, Laura.” He grumbled. She nodded her head in the direction of her room, motioning for him to follow her. He submitted, trailing behind her into her bedroom, closing the door behind the both of them, though he didn’t see what good it would do in stopping Cora from listening in on them still.

Laura walked over to her iPod and opened up a music file, letting the sound of it aid in keeping their sister out of this. “We need to figure out what that was.” She said, grabbing her phone from her purse and tapping away at the screen. “I’m calling Deaton. I need you to follow the scent trail before anything compromises it.” She already had the phone pressed against her ear.

Derek nodded and turned to leave, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. “I’ll call you as soon as I find anything,” he replied dismissively, but her grip tightened. He looked over his shoulder at her to see a momentary look of worry cross her eyes.

“Be careful Derek.” She said, and it wasn’t light or teasing like it usually was. He brought his own hand up to rest atop hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She smiled and he nodded at her. As soon as her hand fell away from him she began her conversation on the phone, and he took that as his cue to head out.

As soon as he took a step outside into the cool night air he realized how fast he’d have to work if he was going to follow the quickly fading trace of the scent. There were already several other smells beginning to dominate the air; things like the forest pine and various other trees, the wildlife that inhabited the forest, the flowing stream nearby, and the oncoming storm that would no doubt soak the town in the earliest hours of the morning.

He checked his phone to see that it was half-past one – he’d only been asleep for a couple hours.

He started into the forest, following the trail deep into the shadows of the trees. He kept a steady pace, letting his wolf senses intensify the world around him. It wasn’t long before he hit the end of the trail. The scent had completely dissipated almost two miles into the forest. Whatever had moved through here had vanished.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Laura’s number. “Did you find anything?” She asked, skipping the pleasantries altogether and getting right down to the point.

“No. Scent’s gone. It didn’t lead anywhere important.” He replied and he could hear her cursing under her breath.

“Where are you?” She asked and he took a quick look around. He’d spent a large amount of his childhood in this forest, exploring its furthest reaches. He knew it better than anyone.

“I’m in the middle of nowhere. There aren’t any caves nearby, the town’s more than three miles West, and the trail’s too faded now. Not much I can do.” He knew his sister would want him to keep trying, but he was tired. He’d spent the entire day filing overdue paperwork at the Department and he was exhausted.

Laura sighed. “Alright baby brother, come home.” She ended the call without saying goodbye, and Derek silently began his journey back to the house. Halfway there his phone started to vibrate, signalling an incoming call. He thought it was Laura checking up on him, but instead _Sheriff Stilinski_ flashed across the screen.

“Hello?” He answered, and he didn’t have to wait for the sheriff to say anything before he knew something was wrong.

“Sorry to bother you Derek, I know you were working all day but we need all the officers we can get tonight.” The sheriff sounded as tired as Derek felt; and though all Derek wanted to do was go home and bury his face in his pillow, he respected the sheriff enough to put his own needs aside to help him out.

“Sure, yeah. What do you need me to do?” He picked up his idle pace back towards the house where his cruiser was parked for the night.

“We got a call from someone reporting a disturbance at Ashen Road. It’s not too far from your place, it’ll only take you ten minutes tops. I just need you to check it out for me,” there was a small pause, Derek could hear a small sigh on the other end of the phone, “Thanks Derek. You’re doing me a huge favour.”

Derek nodded to himself. “No problem John, I’ll let you know if I find anything.” He ended the call and made it back the rest of his way to the house. Laura was standing on the front porch, her arms crossed tightly over herself.

“Alan thinks it was probably just something passing through.” Laura said as Derek walked up the steps of the porch to meet her. "As long as we don't pursue it, or disturb it, it shouldn't stick around."

“I guess there’s nothing to worry about then.” He walked into the house and through to the kitchen, where he grabbed the keys to his cruiser. Laura was standing in the doorway, blocking his way.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked, taking on that preachy older sister tone.

“The sheriff called me while I was on my way back here. I just have to check out a tip and then I’ll be back.” He explained, and she looked like she was about to be stubborn, but she relented. She stepped out of his way and he left before she could change her mind.

The drive was relatively quiet; Derek heard a few teens still out and about, some of them inebriated, some of them pulling pranks in the darkness. Usually he’d track them down and bring them in to the station, but that wasn’t his job tonight.

He turned onto the street marked Ashen Road, slowing down as he looked through the darkness of the lane to try and see if anything was amiss. For the most part it looked deserted, which was normal enough at almost two o’clock in the morning. There was something off about it though… but he didn’t quite figure it out until he rolled down his window and caught the very subtle scent of the same thing that had awoken him and his sisters.

He pulled over to the side of the road and followed the trail all the way to the front door of the house marked ‘ _56_ ’ where the scent was strongest. He knocked on the door, not feeling entirely right about the whole thing. He waited, knocking again when the silence stretched on for too long. He listened intently, trying to pick up a heartbeat from anywhere within the house, but there was nothing there. Complete and utter silence.

He rounded the house and checked the driveway to see that there was indeed a car parked there, which usually meant someone was home. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but Derek doubted anything innocent was at play here.

He checked the rest of the yard, searching for anything that might lead him to better understand what they were dealing with. As he passed the bushes around the front corner of the house his foot got caught on something, almost pulling him down to the ground. He caught himself; his werewolf reflexes were always saving his ass from tripping over his own two feet.

When he reached down to grab what had snagged him, he caught a new scent – this one vaguely familiar, though he couldn't place it. It wasn’t an odour, not like the one that he’d followed here; it was actually quite nice.

He grabbed the bag and held it up, the contents spilling out onto the grass. Toilet paper rolls, a carton of eggs, and a hoodie tumbled out. Derek ignored the toilet paper and eggs, reaching down to instead grab the article of clothing. He inhaled the scent deeply, closing his eyes, trying to remember where he'd smelled it before.

When he finally figured it out he _almost_ managed to hold himself back from rolling his eyes. _Stiles Stilinski_. John’s son, who was always getting himself into trouble one way or another. And where Stiles was Scott wasn’t far behind, which explained the other scent he’d caught on the rest of the bag.

He stood, leaving everything but the bag and sweater, and returned to his cruiser. Whatever happened there, Stiles and Scott had been a part of it. They might’ve even seen what the creature was that left such a vile feeling in the air.

He quickly dialed the sheriff’s number. “Hello?” John picked up after the first ring.

“Hey, it’s Derek. I checked out the street, everything’s pretty dark out here. Doesn’t seem like there’s anything going down.” He paused, tapping his fingers against his steering wheel. If either of those boys were really here when that thing was, they might not be safe. “Are you at home right now?”

“Just about. Melissa called. Apparently our sons were out being delinquents.” John sounded even _more_ tired at the mention of Stiles and Scott. Derek smirked.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” he paused, and then, “No offence.”

John grunted. “None taken. Anyways, thanks for checking it out Derek. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Derek nodded, and then realized that John couldn’t actually see him right now. “Yeah, yeah. But wait, you sure Scott and Stiles are back safe?”

“Yeah, they showed up an hour ago. Melissa sent them to their rooms, so I’m gonna check on them to make sure they listened. Night Derek.” John said, and Derek felt the little knot of worry in his stomach relax.

“Night sheriff.” Derek replied, and ended the call. He decided that getting home to make sure Laura and Cora were safe was his number one priority. Then sleep. In the morning he’d pay Stiles and Scott a visit, and then hopefully he could count this all as a strange but singular occurrence.

«†»


	5. Chapter 5

“ _No_.” Stiles groaned at his alarm clock, which was obviously lying to him. It couldn’t be seven A.M. already, it just _couldn’t_. But it was, and he had to get up for school even though he felt like absolute shit.

He dragged himself out of bed face first – falling out of the tangle of sheets and hitting the ground with a loud _thump_. He groaned again, this time in pain as the throbbing in his head intensified. While he was picking himself up he heard a knock on his bedroom door. “Don’t come in, I’m naked.” He lied, not really wanting to see anyone right now. After his nightmare he struggled with falling back to sleep, and when he did fall even remotely asleep, he’d awaken shortly as new horrors gripped his unconscious state.

The door swung open anyways, and Stiles cursed under his breath. He looked up and saw – _Derek_? What the hell was he doing there?

“Dude! I said I was naked!” Stiles complained, but Derek just rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and you were lying.” Derek invited himself in, ignoring Stiles’s disapproving glares and scoffs.

“How would you know? I _could’ve_ been naked.” Stiles shuddered at the thought of Derek seeing him completely bare – it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant idea, but he was pretty sure that kind of situation, if one sided, would be awkward as hell.

Derek just rolled his eyes in reply, and then he crossed the room until he could reach the office chair by Stiles’s computer desk. He leaned against the back of it for a small moment before turning his head slightly to look at Stiles. “I’m going to ask you a couple of questions Stiles, and if you lie to me _I will know_. So, let’s just skip all the bullshit.” He paused, waiting for Stiles to agree or argue, but Stiles just stared at him blankly. “Why were you and Scott on Ashen Road last night?”

Stiles’s stomach felt like it had somehow leapt into his throat. “Ashen Road?” He asked, his voice cracking in an extremely unattractive way. “Where’s that?” Derek’s stare grew hard and he pushed away from the chair to take a step towards Stiles.

“You were there last night with your step-brother and-,” Derek started but Stiles interjected.

“Brother.” Stiles said, and Derek paused. “Not step-brother. He’s my brother.” It wasn’t like Stiles had just inherited Scott through Melissa and his dad’s marriage; Scott had been Stiles’s brother way before then, and he always would be. “And he wasn’t with me last night. It was just me.” Derek obviously knew it had been Stiles and Scott at Harris’s house, but Stiles wouldn’t let Scott go down for something that Stiles had got him tangled up in.

Derek frowned, taking a deep breath. “Is that so?” Stiles mirrored Derek’s stance, crossing his arms and squaring his jaw.

“Yeah, it is. So what’s the damage?” Stiles asked stubbornly. Derek stared at him for a long moment, a calculating gaze in his distant eyes. “I mean, I didn’t even TP the place, just threw a few eggs. And not even at the house.” Stiles faded out near the end of his confession, remembering exactly _what_ he’d thrown them at instead.

Derek noticed the change and tilted his head. “Why didn’t you throw them at the house if that’s what you went there to do?” Stiles cursed, and then cursed again because Derek had somehow heard him. “Stiles, you need to tell me what happened.”

Stiles looked over Derek’s shoulder to see Scott idly standing in the doorway, peering in and watching curiously. He focused back on Derek, giving the older guy a smile and shrugging. “I have really shitty aim. There’s a reason I’m just the Lacrosse team’s bench warmer. Now, are you gonna tell my dad and get me in shit already?”

Derek shook his head slightly, and then suddenly, “Scott, where were you last night at around midnight?” He didn’t even look over his shoulder; he’d probably known Scott had been standing there the entire time. How exactly he’d known, Stiles wasn’t sure, but it was fucking annoying.

Scott stuttered and Stiles sighed. “He was at Isaac’s.” Stiles answered for him and Scott visibly relaxed. Scott wasn’t big on the whole lying thing, which was why he needed Stiles.

Derek turned to look at Scott, no doubt fixing him with the same glare he’d pinned Stiles with. “So if I called Mrs. Lahey right now and asked her if her son had company last night, she’d confirm?” Scott’s eyes widened in panic.

“Uh, no. She didn’t know Scott was there.” Stiles said, trying to subtly explain Scott’s reaction to the question.

Derek turned back to him. “Convenient.”

“Yeah, it was convenient, for Scott I mean. Considering you don’t really want your parents to know when you’re having sex for the first time with your boyfriend.” Stiles said quickly, avoiding Scott’s horrified expression. _When in doubt make things too awkward to talk about_.

Derek’s cheeks reddened and for a small moment Stiles thought he’d won this battle, but Derek cleared his throat and straightened himself back out.  “Fine Stiles. Have it your way.” He pursed his lips in a thin smile as he walked away towards the bedroom door. He paused when he reached it, throwing a look over his shoulder at Stiles, one that said that he knew the both of them were lying, and he was going to get to the bottom of things one way or another. “I’ll be in touch.”

And with that he was gone, leaving Stiles and Scott alone in the bedroom. Scott looked nervous, but Stiles didn’t take Derek’s passive-aggressive threat seriously.

“We should tell him about the thing we saw. And that scream we heard when we ran away from Harris’s house.” Scott said, closing the bedroom door behind him as he entered the room. Stiles shook his head.

“Absolutely not. He’d check us in to the nearest mental ward.” Stiles scrubbed a hand through his hair. Derek was a good guy – Stiles had known the dude since he’d joined the force a couple years back – and he was an even better cop. He always seemed to crack the case before any of the other officers; his track record was almost perfect. Stiles didn’t know how the guy did it, but he definitely didn’t need Derek on their case, especially since he didn’t even know if what they’d seen or heard had been anything or not. For all he knew, Harris had set them up; scared the shit out of them to prove a point.

“But… what if…” Scott trailed off, staring at a fixed point on the floor with wide eyes. “What if it was something really bad?” He paused, looked up at Stiles. “I had some seriously screwed up dreams last night Stiles. Isaac’s dad came back and he… he killed Isaac. And there was so much blood…” He trailed off; his gaze growing distant and horrified as he no doubt relived the terrors of his nightmares.

Stiles could feel his skin growing cold at the thought of his own dreadful night visions. He shuddered, but smoothly transitioned it into a shrug. “Just your imagination, dude. Now come on, we gotta get ready for school, and I’m sure Melissa and dad are waiting downstairs for us, ready to give us our sentences.”

If anything had gone seriously wrong last night they’d find out soon enough – either Harris would show up to school and give them detention, or he’d be a no show, which probably meant that he was dead. Awesome.

«†»

Stiles had pretty much been lying to Derek during the entire conversation they’d had, which was why when Derek left the room he lingered on the staircase, listening intently on the private conversation now happening between Stiles and Scott.

“We should tell him about the thing we saw. And that scream we heard when we ran away from Harris’s house.” _Harris_ … Derek remembered Adrian Harris; he’d been Derek’s twelfth grade science teacher. Though Scott had been vaguely obscure, it was enough to let Derek know that something _had_ happened, and the two of them had witnessed it. He wasn’t done with them.

He listened to the rest of the quiet discussion between the two boys, getting particularly interested at the mention of vivid nightmares. When Stiles ended it and Scott left the room, Derek finished making his way back downstairs and immediately sought John out. He was in the kitchen sitting at the table there, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper.

“Thanks for letting me talk to Stiles.” Derek sat down in the chair across from the sheriff. Suddenly a plate was set down in front of him. He looked up and Melissa smiled down at him. “Oh, thank you Mrs. Stilinski, but I couldn’t-,” he started but Melissa cut him off.

“I don’t want to hear it Derek. You’ve got a long day ahead of you, so eat up.” She ordered and he smiled. Melissa had always been a sweet woman, Derek enjoyed her company whenever she visited the department to bring John lunch.

So he didn’t argue with her, and instead dug in to one of the most delicious omelettes he’d ever eaten. Though, it was pretty easy to beat Laura’s cooking; she mostly just burned everything to the point of charcoal. She'd even managed to burn water once, which she still boasted about.

“So, did you clear everything up with Stiles about Cora?” John asked, and Derek had almost forgotten about what he’d said to the sheriff to explain why he needed to talk to his son. He set his glass of orange juice down and cleared his throat.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. He agreed to keep an eye on her for me.” Derek replied and Melissa peered over at him.

“Spying on your sister Derek?” She asked, and her tone had that disciplinary tone that only mothers could master after years and years of practice. Derek smirked.

“No, nothing like that. I just need someone to look out for her at school. There’s a group of girls that won’t leave her alone and since I can’t be there for her, I hoped Stiles could help her out instead.” Like Cora needed any help; she could be just as intimidating as Laura at times (especially when she’s on her period). The women of the Hale family tended to be strong-willed and independent. Mostly stubborn.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you. I’m sure Stiles would be more than happy to help you out.” Melissa said, just as Stiles and Scott entered the kitchen.

Stiles made an unimpressed face; scowling. “Yeah, yeah. He already talked to me and I answered all of his questions. Now, can we please skip to the part where you guys punish us for last night?” For a moment Derek worried that his lines were about to be crossed; Melissa and John finding about the real reason he’d come over, which was to interrogate their underage son. Luckily John’s attention had been otherwise re-directed.

“I’d almost forgotten about last night.” John said, and Stiles looked like he was about to slap himself in the face. “Melissa and I have come to the conclusion that the usual penalty will be enough; this time. If you boys ever sneak out past curfew again we’ll take away a lot more than rights of visitation with the boyfriends.”

Derek smirked. “Stiles has a boyfriend?” He asked; the last he’d heard, Stiles wasn’t exactly killing it in the relationship department. Well, actually he was killing it. Because it was dead. Non-existent.

Stiles glared over at him, but then turned the look onto his father. “You know, I don’t appreciate that snark, dad.” The sheriff gave his son a dry look.

“Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time on it instead of doing homework, I wouldn’t have to tease you about it,” John said, and then leaned over towards Derek, “he loves his x-box so much he should marry it. They’re basically inseparable.” Derek smirked, enjoying this a little too much.

“At least Professor X is always there for me.” Stiles mumbled low enough that Derek was pretty sure no one was supposed to hear. But Derek did hear, and of course he had to join in on the fun.

“You named your x-box?” Derek asked, and Stiles frowned.

“Yes, I named my x-box after Xavier. Now I’m gonna go to school and pretend like this morning never happened. Goodbye.” He grabbed a slice of toast off the table and made his exit.

The Sheriff was shaking his head at his son’s retreat, but there was a certain fondness in his eyes. “So… uh… does that mean we’re not allowed to go to Lydia’s party tonight?” Scott asked timidly; Derek had almost forgotten the other boy was there.

Melissa and John exchanged a long look before she sighed and shook her head. “No, you boys don’t exactly go out often, and John thinks Stiles needs a social outing. But,” she paused, giving Scott a stern look, “you boys are on very thin ice. We’re trusting that you both act responsibly, and that you’re home by midnight.”

Scott looked like he was about to protest – Derek remembered how strict Laura had been when he was their age, he’d had to be home by ten o’clock every night, so midnight sounded generous, but apparently not. Melissa raised an eyebrow and immediately Scott softened and nodded. “Alright, fair enough.” He reached over and grabbed a couple pieces of the toast, smothered them in jam, and then gave his mom a peck on the cheek. “Alright, see you later!” He called over his shoulder and left the house.

John and Melissa smiled at each other, and suddenly Derek could sense it was time for him to leave too. “Thanks for breakfast! It was delicious, but I should get going.” He wiped his mouth and carried his dishes to the sink. Melissa grabbed them before he could drop them in, saying she’d take care of the dishes because he was their guest and if he had somewhere to be she didn’t want to keep him.

“I’ll see you later Derek, your shift starts at eleven, right?” John asked as he walked Derek to the door. Derek nodded and John nodded in return. “Good, I have a feeling today’s going to be a long, busy day.”

After Derek said his goodbyes and left, he hopped inside his cruiser and pulled out his cell phone to see that Laura had called eight times while he’d been inside the Stilinski household. Derek found himself silently agreeing with the sheriff. Today was definitely going to be a long day.

«†»


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as Scott got to the school he texted Isaac to find out where he was. They met up at Scott’s locker – Scott just about running Isaac over with an enormous hug that he wouldn’t break away from until Isaac verbally acknowledged the fact that Scott loved him, and that Scott had missed him like crazy even though it had only been a day since they’d seen each other last.

“Are you having withdrawal issues? Because, I mean, I’m not opposed to never leaving your side again, but things might get a little complicated when I have History first period, and you have Chem.” Isaac gave his boyfriend a small peck on the cheek.

Scott smirked, and just as Isaac began to pull away, he followed and captured Isaac’s retreating lips in a warm, delicate kiss. When they parted Isaac had to catch his breath, which made Scott chuckle.

“I thought _I_ was the asthmatic! Y’know, if you keep holding your breath when we kiss-,” Scott started to tease, but Isaac cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You’ll be the death of me." Isaac winked and Scott rolled his eyes. Isaac affectionately tugged at Scott’s hand, locking their fingers together comfortably. “C’mon. Erica and Boyd are waiting for us outside."

Scott followed Isaac as he led them both through the school and outside to the pavement between the football field and the parking lot. Erica was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed lazily over herself. Boyd stood close by, waving as soon as he saw the two boys approaching.

“Hey, Happy Halloween.” Boyd grinned, and Scott smiled back. Erica was smiling from where she was leaning as well.

“Why am I the only one who dressed up?” She asked, motioning towards her black cat ears and painted on whiskers. Boyd shook his head, obviously amused by his girlfriend’s antics. Scott shrugged.

“I woke up a little late, I didn’t have time to throw anything together in time.” He’d thought about putting a costume on for school – it was Halloween Day after all, and if he _did_ have to go to school, he’d rather have fun with it – but ultimately he decided he’d wait for Lydia’s party to get dressed up.

“Did you miss your alarm again?” Isaac asked, playfully nudging Scott in the side.

“No, not this time.” Scott replied, and even though he didn’t want last night’s encounter to affect his overall mood, he still felt somehow heavier because of the nightmares and the general feeling of unease that had settled over him from the moment he and Stiles were outside of Harris’s house.

Isaac frowned, sensing Scott’s sudden detachment. “What’s wrong?” He asked, giving Scott’s hand a tight squeeze, which helped Scott find his way back to the present. Images of Isaac’s father standing over Isaac’s lifeless body were still fresh in his mind.

But here was Isaac, right beside him; warm and whole, the softest hint of a worried smile on his face. “Sorry.” Scott paused, shaking himself out of whatever he’d started to feel. “Sorry, I just didn’t sleep well last night.” Isaac looked even more worried then, frowning and pulling Scott a little closer to him. Scott looked down at his feet, but Isaac lifted his chin up tentatively with gentle fingers.

“What happened?” Isaac asked, but Scott wasn’t really sure what he could say. Stiles had specifically told Scott not to tell anyone – _including Isaac_. And that wasn’t going to be easy, probably not even achievable. Considering the fact that Scott pulled Isaac to one side and told him everything that happened not even two seconds after Isaac asked, it was safe to say that Scott hadn’t even tried.

“Last night Stiles really wanted to go out and egg Harris’s house, but when we got there, there was someone watching us, and Stiles threw eggs at them instead, but then they just started walking towards us. I felt like I was… paralyzed? It was weird. I couldn’t move, and I don’t think Stiles could either, but then Harris came out of his house and whoever – or _what_ ever – it was, looked away and then we ran back home, but we heard this awful scream and all night I had these strange, terrifying nightmares.” Scott took a deep breath after his short speech, Isaac patting him soothingly on the back.

“Take a breath, it’s gonna be okay.” He wrapped his arms around Scott, pulling him into a comforting hug that helped Scott feel a little more secure. They stood that way for a long time, until the school bell rang to signal it was time for them to go to their separate classes. “We’ll talk more about this later, alright?” Isaac said as Scott pulled away. Scott nodded, and with his head hanging low started towards his first class.

“See you later, I guess.” Scott mumbled, wishing he could skip class and stay with Isaac. He’d made it two steps before he felt someone grabbing at his wrist. He turned and saw Isaac standing there, an endless look of affection in his eyes.

“I love you, you know that, right?” He spoke softly, and Scott smiled.

“I love you more.” He grinned and Isaac shook his head.

“I love you the most, then.” Isaac replied, and Erica made a gagging noise behind them. Scott looked over his shoulder to see her and Boyd holding hands, walking away from them into the school. “Why don’t we just skip first? And you can tell me more about your nightmares – only if you want to though. I’m here for you.”

Scott had to think about it – he was already in trouble with his parents, and if he skipped first period, Harris would mark him absent and he’d get a phone call home to validate him not being in class. The same went for Isaac, but Isaac’s mom was an absolute sweet heart, and considering she always let Isaac have a few ‘mental health’ days off from school, he was sure that if Isaac explained Scott needed him, she’d understand.

And Scott really wasn’t in the mood to try and understand covalent bonds and chemical reactions, or whatever the hell Harris was going to torture them with.

“Yeah, I think I’m good with that.” The boys smiled at each other and started walking away from the school, towards the outlying wooded area. He shot Stiles a text so that he wouldn’t worry, and the two of them started into the trees, carving out their own little private world for a while.

«†»

When Harris didn’t show up to teach the morning class, Stiles wrote it off as a coincidence. But when Harris didn’t make an appearance for his next class, nor for his lunch supervising duty, _then_ Stiles decided it was time to acknowledge the fact that maybe something horrible had indeed happened the previous night.

He slid onto the bench beside Boyd, knocking the other boy’s bottle of soda over. “Sorry,” he said and then quickly turned his attention to Scott and Isaac, “Scott told you everything that happened last night, didn’t he?” Isaac didn’t even have to say anything – he already looked borderline paranoid, and Scott and Isaac had been clinging to one another all day long, like Isaac was some sort of life preserver.

Scott bit at his lips, avoiding Stiles’s judgmental gaze. “What happened last night?” Erica asked, but before Stiles could come up with some bullshit story that would appease her relentless line of questioning that wouldn’t end until he told her something, his dad walked into the cafeteria, almost immediately zoning in on Stiles and Scott.

Stiles leaned in, lowering his voice. “My dad’s here,” he hissed, and his father started walking towards them – his eyes fixed on Stiles with an expression of clear apprehension. “Look, Harris didn’t show up today, and I think something really _did_ happen last night.” Scott looked over his shoulder just as their dad walked up to their table.

“Hello boys.” He addressed the entire table, and then upon seeing Erica there, smiling up at him, “Hey Erica.” He said, and then skipped right down to business. “The three of you need to come with me.” He pointed at Stiles, Scott, and Isaac.

 _Oh shit_ , Stiles cursed. This was in no way going to end well for them. Not one bit.

«†»


	7. Chapter 7

Isaac and Scott stood wordlessly from their seats, looking like they’d committed an arsenal of crimes and were about to be told they had more than enough evidence to convict them for twenty five years to life. Stiles glared at them.

“Do you have a warrant?” Stiles asked, and his dad crossed his arms.

“ _Now Stiles_.” His dad ordered. Stiles grimaced - his father didn't have much patience for him, but generally he didn't bark at him like this. Stiles stood from his seat, peering around the cafeteria to see that basically everyone was watching them. He followed behind Scott and Isaac as his dad led them out of the cafeteria towards the main office.

Derek stood in front of the office door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. “Principal Mathers just left, his office is free for us to use.” He spoke directly to the sheriff, but at the end his eyes trailed over to Stiles. Stiles met Derek’s gaze evenly; he wasn’t afraid and he wouldn’t be intimated. Whatever this was, Stiles was going to handle it.

“Good, good. Okay, Stiles and Scott you wait out here. Isaac, you’re coming with me.” He opened the office door, allowing Isaac to go in first. He then turned to Stiles, pinning him to the spot with a hard glare. “You will wait here. You will not speak, you will not move from this spot until I say so.” He looked at Scott, “And you. You’re going to sit in there where Miss Schultz can keep an eye on you.” Scott bowed his head and followed Isaac through the door to reception. Stiles looked through the window to see Scott give Isaac’s hand a reassuring squeeze before Isaac disappeared into the Principal’s private office.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Stiles asked, and his dad ignored him outright, following Isaac into the office and leaving Stiles sitting there alone, with Derek. _Just wonderful_.

Derek smiled at Stiles in an extremely condescending way. “You wanna know what’s going on?” He asked, and Stiles didn’t say anything, just slumped down into one of the chairs and glared at the floor. Because really, this was all the floor’s fault, obviously. Derek sat down in one of the chairs beside Stiles. “Let’s make a deal. You tell me what you saw last night, and I’ll tell you why you and your buddies are here instead of enjoying lunch with your other misfit friends.”

Stiles remained silent – a rare thing for him, but he was stubborn and he was sticking to his story.

Derek sighed. “Look Stiles, you need to tell me what you saw.” There was a short pause; Stiles didn’t take his eyes off the floor but he could feel Derek’s intent gaze on him. “Mr. Harris is missing.” Derek said, his voice straining like he didn’t really want to divulge that sort of information this early in the game.

Stiles looked up finally; his heart was pounding, and at first he’d thought he’d misheard Derek. “ _Missing_?” All of the dread from the night before and the morning crashed into him, making him feel lightheaded.

“Yes, missing. And you were at his house last night, and you saw something.” It wasn’t a question. Derek sounded so _sure_ , like he’d seen the whole thing unfold himself. He leaned in a little closer, resting a hand on Stiles’s arm. “Stiles, you can trust me. I just want to help.”

There was a moment – an extremely _small_ moment, but still a moment – where Stiles actually considered telling Derek everything. And then he ran through it all in his head.

_So there was this person there – well, okay, maybe not even a person, let’s call it a thing that looked like a person but was definitely not a person because it oozed evil – anyways, so this thing was there last night and it looked at me and paralyzed me, and I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m not dead right now is because my teacher came out and interrupted the thing from brutally murdering me. So when Harris came out the thing looked away from me, and at that precise moment I regained control of my limbs so I ran away, and as I was running I heard this blood curdling scream, which probably belonged to Harris. So there, that’s what happened. Oh, and I also had some really shitty nightmares last night that I think is connected to my encounter with whatever the hell it was._

Instead of sounding like a lying lunatic, Stiles decided to keep his mouth shut about all of that. Stiles pulled away from Derek’s touch and refocused himself. “I already told you. Harris’s house was dark when I got there, and it was dark when I left.” Stiles lied, but it sounded convincing. Still, Derek didn’t look swayed.

“Yeah, yeah. Interesting story. Except those eggs you threw somehow ended up all the way across on the other side of the street.” Derek sounded derisively confused.

Stiles leaned over, resting his elbows on his bouncing knees. “Trust me, Finstock already has me running extra laps for accidentally denting his car with one of my throws last week. And his car was on the _other side of the parking lot_.” That was actually true. The whole incident had occurred because Jackson had tripped him just as he was about to release the ball, which sent Stiles spiralling to the ground and surprisingly the motion gave Stiles’s throw enough momentum to send the ball soaring through the air, right into the coach’s front windshield.

Derek looked amused, but quickly his smirk melted away into a serious glower. “If you don’t start telling me the truth, pretty soon I’m going to tell your father just exactly what you were up to last night.”

“Look,” Stiles started, completely exasperated, “I don’t care if you think I’m lying because I’m not, you’re just a paranoid-,” Stiles had been about to put his colourful vocabulary to use, but suddenly an overwhelming wave of dizziness washed over him, scrambling his brain.

He could feel his eyes rolling into the back of his head as his vision went black. The world around him seemed to blink out of existence entirely, the only sound being that of his own racing heart and the blood rushing in his ears. He was floating in absolute darkness, his limbs heavy and weighing him down.

Every inch of his being felt like it was filled with poison – his stomach rolling, forcing acid to crawl up into his throat; his muscles clenched and unclenched sporadically. It felt like his skin was on fire.

And then he felt nothing – but not the numb sort of nothing. It took him a moment to open his eyes, blinking back the blazing lightness of the school hallway.

Derek was no longer sitting beside him, instead standing with his back to Stiles. Stiles lifted his hand, happy to find that his limbs were working for him, and he rested it on Derek’s shoulder. The other man turned to face him and Stiles almost screamed – instead he just flailed and yelped a high pitch screech.

Derek’s eyes were _glowing_.

“Holy shit.” Stiles exclaimed and then Derek’s eyes blinked back to their normal greenish hue. Stiles squinted as he leaned in closer to Derek, trying to get a better look at his eyes. It could’ve just been the lighting, but for some reason Stiles knew there was more to Derek than he’d originally thought.

“Can I help you?” Derek asked, and Stiles realized how close he was leaning forward. His nose was practically touching Derek’s, and he could feel the heat being generated from the other man’s body like he was portable furnace.

“Your eyes.” Stiles said, and though he knew the decent thing to do was give Derek proper space, he couldn’t bring himself to take a step back. Derek wasn’t moving either.

He watched the older man close his eyes and take a deep breath. “If you’re about to tell me you need a map because you keep getting lost in them I swear to god.” Derek sounded irritated, but Stiles heard a panicked undertone.

“No, no, _no_. Your eyes were literally glowing _blue_.” Stiles blinked in amazement. Derek tried to look away but Stiles grabbed his cheeks and held his face in place. They stood like that for a moment, Derek’s expression slowly progressing towards violent hostility.

Suddenly they heard someone clear their throat and both of them snapped their heads in the direction of the source. The sheriff stood there, a mixture of confusion, amusement, and complete _what the fuck_ on his face.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asked and Stiles released Derek’s face and took an enormous step backwards, his foot snagging on the leg of the chair and suddenly he was falling. He was about to hit the ground, his eyes shut tightly in preparation for the impact and pain, when suddenly he felt hands wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him upright.

“Sorry sir,” Derek mumbled and once Stiles was back on his feet Derek walked away from them both without another word.

Stiles looked at his dad, who was raising an eyebrow at him. “That wasn’t what it looked like.” Stiles said, but the sheriff didn’t look convinced.

He looked in the direction of where Derek had just run off in, and then back at his son. “He’s too old for you.” Stiles was about to say something to change the subject – but he frowned and tilted his head questioningly.

“Wait, what?” He asked; Derek was only four years older than Stiles. That was barely an age difference.

“You heard me.” His dad said and crossed his arms.

“Dad. I’m seventeen. I am literally turning eighteen in like… six months. Derek is not too old for me.” He protested and his dad just rolled his eyes.

“Exactly. Six months. That’s half a year you’re still living under my roof, abiding by my rules. If the state says you’re not legal, then you’re not legal. I’m sure Derek feels the same way. Or he will soon enough.” His dad said, and then his expression softened. “I gotta hand it to you though, Derek’s a good looking guy. I’m impressed.”

And then his dad just walked away. Like that was even _okay_.

“Impressed?” Stiles asked, following his dad into the reception area. Scott and Isaac were being reunited, hugging and softly reassuring each other in quiet whispers. “Do you doubt your son could ever get a guy like Derek?”

The sheriff just rolled his eyes, not answering the question. Instead he just said, “Come on in Stiles, I don’t have all day.”

“Because I totally could, y’know. I’m a catch. Any guy would be lucky to have me.” Stiles said and ignored his dad’s orders, though no one was really listening. He looked around, seeing that his friends were disregarding him, but then in one of the chairs sat Greenberg, who’d apparently heard Stiles’s little rant.

He winked at Stiles and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Stiles let out a small, “Nope,” and turned on his heels to follow his dad into the makeshift interrogation room. Anything was better than being hit on by Greenberg.

«†»

Derek fucked up. Stiles had seen his eyes; the pale blue eyes of the wolf. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but Stiles had just… vanished. Not in the physical sense – he remained seated in that chair even as his eyes had closed and his heart beat had sky-rocketed to such a high rate Derek was afraid Stiles was going into cardiac shock – but he hadn’t responded to Derek’s frantic calls.

And then he’d smelled it. The same scent he’d encountered outside of Harris’s house, and in the middle of the woods. Whatever was there last night was near the school now, and it was strong enough to provoke Derek’s wolf without warning.

He’d managed to subdue it long enough to get away from Stiles and John, but as soon as he got outside his instincts were fighting hard to break free from the confines of his human half. The wolf inside of him paced impatiently on the edge of his consciousness, threatening to take over but not strong enough to do so yet.

Derek sniffed the air, catching a strong whiff of death and decay and general unpleasantness.

He followed it all the way to the back of the school, passed the fields and the parking lot, all the way to the edge of the school’s boundaries. And that’s where he found it.

Adrian Harris’s body.

«†»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all my Canadian brethren: Happy Thanksgiving!!!


	8. Chapter 8

“For the _sixth_ time, I was with Scott and Isaac last night!” Stiles said, throwing his hands up in a show of how exasperated he was. His dad was looking at him, a deadpan expression in his eyes.

“We called Isaac’s mom and she said she went to bed early, but she didn’t think either of you were with her son last night.” Stiles hadn’t taken that into consideration, but at least Mrs. Lahey had been asleep, which meant there was a chance her testimony would be rendered unreliable. "We also had a talk with the receptionist, Schultz. She said you two were asking around about Harris's address."

Stiles sighed; obviously he’d have to improvise. “We were in and out in less than five minutes. Scott left his bag there and all we went there to do was pick it up. And then we came right back home. We only asked Schultz about Harris's address because we _thought_ about egging his house, but we didn't.”

Before his dad could call him on his bullshit, the walkie-talkie on his shoulder crackled to life. “Sheriff, I believe I just found the body of Adrian Harris.” There was some static but Derek’s voice was clear. Stiles and his dad stared at each other for a long moment. “You’re going to have to let Mr. Mathers know that he has to send all the students home.”

His dad finally reached for the walkie. “Why’s that?” He motioned for Stiles to leave, but he wasn’t missing any of this.

“Harris’s body is here at the school. It’s just around the back dumped under some trees, but it’s still school property. I already called in for the coroner and forensics team, as well as extra officers to secure the perimeter.” Stiles blinked. This was actually happening. Harris was _dead_. Holy fucking _Christ_.

“Alright I’ll meet you out there in a minute.” The sheriff said and stood from his seat, grabbing Stiles by the arm and practically dragging him out of the room. “You three can go home.” He said and then left without another word.

Scott looked at Stiles, confusion and worry plain on his face. Stiles grabbed Scott’s shoulder with one hand and Isaac’s arm with the other, leading them out of the reception area and towards his locker. “Okay, okay. So, here’s the thing. Well, okay let me put it to you this way. I have good news and bad news. Good news is that I don’t think my dad suspects us of anything anymore. Bad news is Mr. Harris is uhh…” He paused, swallowing down a lump in his throat. “He’s dead.”

Scott stopped in his tracks, making Stiles and Isaac stop as well. “Harris is dead?” He asked, his voice almost shrill. Stiles quickly looked around the hallway, noticing the girl passing by who’d stopped dead in her tracks as well.

“Mr. Harris? He wasn’t in my second period class. Did you just say he’s… _dead_?” She asked, and there was a look of pure horror there, that Stiles was almost positive matched his own.

“Sarah right?” He asked and crossed the hallway over to her. He rested a hand on her shoulder and motioned for her to keep walking. “Everything’s gonna be alright, you just keep on walking that way.” He ushered her away while she half-heartedly protested and then he returned to Isaac and Scott. “Maybe you want to keep your voice down?”

“How do you know that he’s dead?” Isaac asked quietly as the three of them started on their way again.

“Heard Derek over my dad’s radio calling it in. They’re sending all the kids home because the body’s on the school’s property, so we should probably leave now before everyone’s trying to get out at the same time. Besides,” Stiles paused, glancing between the two of them, “I want to get a close look at the body.”

Scott made a disgruntled noise. “Are you out of your _mind_?” Scott hissed. Something didn’t feel right about any of it though – Harris’s body showing up at school, right after Stiles blacked out.

“Look, if Harris was murdered we’ll be able to tell how he died, right? Unless it’s something like poisoning or… something not human.” Stiles tried to make the last part sound nonchalant but Isaac and Scott both gave him odd looks.

“Not human?” Isaac asked, and Stiles was really hoping they wouldn’t notice that bit.

He sighed. “Yeah. Not human. Clearly whatever it was that was there last night was what killed Harris. Because that scream…” Stiles trailed off, listening to the faint traces of it still echoing in his head. “Anyways, I don’t know what we saw, or what it did to us. But I just had an episode right before Derek found the body, so.”

Scott perked up at that, frowning. “An episode? Did like, your whole body shut down?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah. How’d you know?” He asked.

“The same thing happened to me when I was in the other room. I felt really weird, and then all of a sudden I blacked out. But when I came to Miss Schultz wasn’t even looking at me, like, I thought it was all in my head or something.” Stiles was now almost one hundred percent sure everything was linked somehow; the nightmares, the blackouts. He wondered if it was going to get worse. He really hoped they wouldn’t, his sanity was already fragile enough.

“We need to figure this out.” Stiles stated. Isaac looked a little apprehensive but Scott nodded.

“Are you sure we’ll be able to get close enough to the body to even see anything though?” Scott asked. If they were quick enough they could get to the scene before any more officers showed up. They’d only have to deal with their father and Derek, which would be easy. Or, well, maybe not; but Stiles had a plan. First he had to grab his bag from his locker.

«†»

“I am so sorry I got you tangled up in all of this…” Scott said quietly, looking down at his feet instead of meeting Isaac’s eyes. He felt terrible for dragging Isaac into whatever was going on; if Scott and Stiles had told the truth – or some form of the truth that wouldn’t get them sent to the nearest psychiatric ward – they wouldn’t have used Isaac as an alibi and the sheriff wouldn’t have called Isaac’s mom, nor would he have had to been questioned.

“Hey,” Isaac whispered, his voice soft and soothing. He reached up and placed his hand under Scott’s chin, gently lifting it so that Scott would look at him. Scott could see the affection in Isaac’s deep blue eyes. “I am more than glad to be tangled up in this with you.” He smiled as he wrapped an arm around Scott’s waist, pulling the brunette in as close as he could manage without having to remove his hand from Scott’s cheek. He brushed his thumb lightly along Scott’s jaw.

“But this is… this is _crazy_. What if Stiles is right? What if what we’re dealing with isn’t human, and extremely dangerous?” Scott didn’t even want to think about Isaac being in harm’s way, especially if it was Scott who put him there.

Isaac rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “Stiles has an overactive imagination. And I don’t doubt that something happened last night, but I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for it.”

“But Mr. Harris’s body…” Scott said, barely more than a whisper. Isaac sighed, sliding his hand around the back of Scott’s head and tangling his fingers in his hair. Scott rested his chin on Isaac’s shoulder, closing his eyes and taking deep breathes. “If he died and we just… _ran away_ … we could’ve done something to help him! We should’ve called the cops!”

“You were scared and it was dark, and there’s nothing you could’ve done to save him Scott. Don’t feel guilty about that, please.” Isaac was holding onto Scott tightly, burying his face into Scott’s neck.

“Yo! You guys ready to go?” Stiles asked and Scott tilted his head to look at him. Scott didn’t understand how Stiles was so calm about the whole thing, but his friend’s reactions were seldom normal. Stiles patted Isaac on the back as he walked by, motioning for them to follow him.

«†»

Derek wasn’t really sure what he was looking at. He was kneeling down beside Harris’s corpse, and he’d been trying to evaluate the state it was in, and why there was black liquid oozing from every visible orifice on the body.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he spoke quickly and quietly into his phone. Deaton was on the other end of the line but he remained silent. All Derek could hear was the frantic flipping of what sounded like pages. “He smells rotted – like he’s been dead for a week. There’s black liquid dripping from his mouth, nose, and eyes.” Derek shifted, peering over at Harris’s face. “And on top of all that, his face is twisted in an… extremely disturbing way.”

Adrian Harris had been _terrified_ when he’d died; his face freezing in his last moments of intense fear. His eyes were open wide – completely white except for where the black ooze had stained them. His mouth was contorted, lips stretched tight over his bared teeth in a silent scream. His whole body was rigid; fingers curled and legs still bent in the air, like he was trying to run away.

It didn’t make sense. Dead bodies didn’t look like this. Dead bodies were limp and lifeless. They weren’t stiff and terrifying. Not like this.

“I’m going to need more time with this, I’ll call you when I find something.” And then he hung up and Derek slipped his phone into his pocket just as the sheriff was walking up to meet him. Derek stood, brushing his knees off to rid his pants of the dirt from the ground.

“I talked to Mathers and he’ll make the announcement as soon as our officers arrive to make sure the kids stay a healthy distance away from the body.” He said and looked behind Derek to look at the thing himself. He wasn’t close enough to really make out all the gory details, but it was obvious he could see how abnormal the corpse looked. “Do we know what that black gunk is?” He asked and Derek shook his head.

In all honesty Derek had no idea what it was. It didn’t smell like anything he’d encountered before. “No idea, I guess that’s why we have a forensics team, right?” Derek asked and the sheriff gave him a dry look.

“Right. Anyways, I need you to stay here and make sure no one gets too close. I’m gonna wait out front for the rest of the team to show up.” John started to walk away but stopped after a few steps. He looked over at Derek, frowning in consternation. “How exactly did you come across this?”

Derek couldn’t exactly tell the truth, so he lied instead. Quite easily. “I came out here to get a breath of fresh air and I smelled something rank, so I came to check it out.”

The sheriff sniffed at the air and winced. “Yeah, it smells pretty bad. Might be that black stuff. Usually it’d take a while for that kind of smell to settle in.” He turned and started walking away again, this time disappearing around the corner of the school.

Derek looked down at Harris’s body for a few more moments before he’d had enough of seeing that frozen, horrible expression. He turned his back on the body and scanned the area. There were a few students walking around, some of them taking notice of him but not venturing close enough to see why an officer was at their school.

And then there was Stiles, marching towards Derek with Scott and Isaac close behind him.

“Absolutely not.” Derek stopped Stiles, placing a hand on his chest to halt him in his tracks.

“I’m here to see you.” Stiles said. Derek frowned. The boy’s heart had sky-rocketed again, and for a moment Derek worried Stiles was about to fall into whatever state he had before.

Suddenly Stiles reached into his pocket and even with Derek’s naturally faster reflexes, he couldn’t react in time to dodge the silly string being sprayed in his face. “ _Stiles_!” He growled, feeling annoyance and anger and then more annoyance overwhelm him. He charged at Stiles, who, probably knowing this would be the outcome of his actions, bolted towards the school and out of Derek’s grasp.

Derek snarled and chased after him, the wolf howling inside his mind. They ran until they were at the edge of the woods on the opposite end of the field. Derek had just about grabbed him when Stiles suddenly stumbled over his own two feet, spiralling to the ground and bringing Derek down with him.

Stiles grunted as Derek fell directly on top of him. Derek reached down and pinned Stiles’s arms to the ground over his head. They were both panting, and Stiles was trying to wiggle his way to freedom. “Jesus Christ you weigh a ton.” Stiles whined, and Derek could feel Stiles’s muscles tensing to try and support the extra weight.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Derek asked, awkwardly straddling Stiles’s hips to try and secure the boy and inhibit him from squirming away.

“You need to lighten up dude, it’s just silly string.” Stiles said and after a short sigh, gave up on trying to get away.

Derek growled – his chest rumbling low and threatening. “Tell me what you saw.” Derek was done with playing around.

Stiles blinked. “I already told you-,” he started to say but Derek cut him off, harshly slamming Stiles’s hands down on the ground. “ _Fuck_.” Stiles whimpered in pain, but Derek didn’t care.

“Tell. Me. What. You. Saw.” He bit off every single word to make it as clear to Stiles as he possibly could that there was only one way this was going to end. Stiles glared up at Derek, obviously resentful of the fact that Derek could hold him down so easily.

Stiles shifted under him in frustration – Derek tried to ignore the way Stiles’s leg rubbed against an extremely sensitive area. Stiles huffed out a breath and then finally, “Fine. But you’re not going to believe me.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Just fucking tell me already.”

Stiles bit at his lower lip, and despite Derek’s best efforts, his eyes were drawn to the action. “I don’t know what I saw, okay? But I was at Harris’s house and there was someone else across the street. I threw an egg at them to scare whoever it was away, but then they started towards me and I couldn’t move, but Harris came out of his house and as soon as the thing looked away from me… I don’t know, I could move again. So I started running. And I didn’t look back. But I heard a scream and it was… I think it was Harris.”

Derek felt his mouth go dry. “You… threw eggs at them?” Stiles could be brash – a perfect example was how he’d just attacked Derek with a bottle of silly string – but he didn’t think the kid was stupid. Apparently he was wrong.

“Yes, I threw several eggs at whatever the hell it was – or, okay, maybe who but honestly it just… it didn’t _feel_ human, y’know?” Throughout Stiles’s whole dialog Derek had been listening to Stiles’s heart, and he hadn’t been lying.

Derek stood up briskly, separating himself from Stiles quickly. He tried to pull off the remaining string that hadn’t fallen away during the pursuit, but when Stiles stood he walked over to Derek and reached up towards Derek’s head. Derek grabbed at Stiles’s wrist to stop him but Stiles swatted his hand away.

“You should’ve told me all of this, this morning.” Derek grumbled and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“First of all, I do not trust you. Secondly, why on earth would you even believe me. Thirdly, I didn’t know Harris was… dead. And in case you weren’t aware, I’m pretty sure my recollection of last night is enough to get me locked up for life in some asylum where they’d pump me full of drugs, and no thank you because I’ve had enough correctional drugs to last me a lifetime, okay?” Stiles finished and took a deep breath to make up for the fact that he’d practically said all of that in one go.

Derek just raised an eyebrow at him and let that speak for itself.

“I believe you.” Derek said, and without another word started making his way back to where they’d left Scott and Isaac. Derek was one hundred percent sure Stiles had been the distraction, and that the other two boys had used the opportunity to look at the body. He sighed, mentally kicking himself for letting his anger and wolf get the best of him.

“You believe me?” Stiles sounded skeptical.

“Yeah. I believe you.” Derek replied, and as soon as they rejoined Scott and Isaac – both looking sick to their stomachs – Derek turned to Stiles. “The three of you need to meet me at my house after I’m done here.” Somehow Stiles was connected to whatever it was that was running around his territory. He needed to make sure Stiles was safe, and since Stiles was always with Scott and Isaac, he’d have to keep a close eye on all of them.

Scott and Isaac silently nodded, though Scott was the only one who looked over at Stiles to see if he could figure out what had occurred between him and Derek.

“We’ll see you then.” Stiles replied, and the three of them left Derek alone with Harris. Shortly after that, the sheriff returned with five more officers with him. They taped off the area and then Derek heard the principal over the loudspeaker, announcing that due to unfortunate circumstances the students would be sent home early.

Soon throes and throes of kids started to scurry out of the school, mostly in large, chaotic clumps. Derek slipped away long enough to make a phone call to Deaton, retelling Stiles’s story in hopes that some detail would help Deaton figure out what they were up against.

“You say he felt paralyzed when it looked at him, but was released when it looked away?” Deaton asked, and Derek confirmed. There was an almost silent intake of breath on the other end of the line. “I think I know what we’re dealing with.”

«†»


	9. Chapter 9

“What the _hell_ are could do _that_ to someone?” Stiles asked, but neither Scott nor Isaac could give him an answer. Isaac had taken a few pictures of Harris’s body on his phone and handed it to Stiles as soon as he’d rejoined them. They were walking towards the parking lot when their principal’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker, announcing that the students were being sent home. “We’ll meet up at home.” Stiles said and handed the phone back to Isaac.

Stiles parted ways with them then, climbing into his jeep while Scott and Isaac hopped onto Scott’s motorbike (which technically may have been a little too small for two people to ride, but Isaac liked to snuggle anyways). Scott and Isaac managed to beat Stiles back to the house, but as soon as Isaac climbed off the bike, he realized his phone was ringing.

“Isaac why did Scott’s father call me and ask if you boys were here together last night?” His mother asked, sounding worried. Isaac motioned for Scott to wait inside for him, and begrudgingly his boyfriend obeyed.

“Mr. Stilinski wanted to make sure Scott and Stiles weren’t responsible for any of the vandalism that happened around town last night.” Isaac explained, and his mom was very quiet for a moment.

“Were they?” She asked, and even though Isaac knew that technically Scott and Stiles actually hadn’t TP’d Harris’s house, he still felt like he was about to lie to his mom. And that really wasn’t a great feeling.

“No. Scott forgot his bag here when he dropped me off after school yesterday, so he and Stiles drove over to get it,” It had turned into a lie, but a lie that he and Scott were now sharing, “You were asleep so I didn’t want to wake you up. He just came in, grabbed his bag, and left.” It was a simple enough lie – easy to remember – but somehow Isaac worried he’d fudge it up somehow, and they’d be caught.

His mother let out a breathy chuckle. “That’s it eh? Didn’t take a few extra minutes to get caught up on some lip action?” She was teasing, and Isaac was very much blushing.

“ _Mom_!” He whined and she laughed, and that was really nice to hear. She’d been laughing more and more the longer she was away from his father. She’d started to smile too, even when no one was looking. He peered at the house, a smirk of his own lighting up his features. “I’m sorry sheriff Stilinski called you, but everything’s okay,” he paused and remembered Harris’s dead body at the school, “for the most part,” he added.

She caught the strained tone of his voice. “For the most part?” She asked, and he had to tell her. She was going to find out sooner or later anyways; no doubt the discovery of Harris’s death would be all over the news as soon as the media got a hold of it.

“They sort of, umm… found a teacher’s body in the woods at the school.” He pushed it all out in one breath, getting it over and done with as quickly as possible. There was silence on the other end of the line. “Mom?” He asked in a small voice.

“And by ‘a teacher’s body’, I assume you mean… a dead one?” She asked, and Isaac already knew where this was going. “You need to come home right now Isaac.” She wasn’t angry, just worried, and he understood that.

“I’m just at Scott and Stiles’s place-,” he started but she cut him off.

“I need you to be here, Isaac! I need to know you’re safe!” She sounded like she was on the brink of tears.

“Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? I’m leaving right now. Don’t worry. I love you.” He said, trying to calm her.

She sniffled, said, “Okay, I love you too,” and then the line went dead and Isaac pocketed his phone. He climbed the steps to Scott’s house and let himself in. Scott was sitting on the couch, staring down at his cell phone with a curious look on his face.

Isaac’s phone buzzed too, and he checked to see that it was a message from Lydia Martin. Weird.

**_Lydia Martin:_ **

**The party’s still on.**

Short and straight to the point; very much Lydia. Apparently having a teacher wind up dead on Halloween made the idea of a party that much more thrilling.

“We’re not going, are we?” Isaac asked, and Scott shook his head.

“Hell no. We are staying in tonight, watching a _Halloween Town_ marathon, and eating all the candy my mom and Stiles’s dad bought to hand out to trick-or-treaters. I doubt anyone will go out tonight anyways, considering… y’know.” Scott said, and Isaac nodded.

Suddenly he felt guilty for having to leave, but his mom was worried and he needed to be there for her. “That all sounds like the greatest Halloween night ever,” Isaac said, and Scott immediately deciphered the tone of his voice.

“But,” Scott prompted him, and Isaac continued.

“I told my mom about Harris and she wants me to be at home with her, where she knows I’m safe.” Isaac said, and he knew Scott would understand. There was nothing Isaac held back from Scott, even before when they hadn’t started dating. Scott was his best friend.

Though Isaac was almost one hundred percent sure his father was still locked up in jail, and his MO wasn’t really murder – just abuse – there was still a nagging fear that he and his mother held on to, and would probably always feel until they faced his father. Defeated their own inner demons.

Scott nodded, reaching over and lacing his fingers through Isaac's. He leaned up and placed his lips gently against the back of Isaac’s hand, giving it a delicate kiss. “I want you to be safe too. I’ll drive you home.” And then he stood and the two of them walked together hand in hand out the front door and towards Scott’s bike.

«†»

Stiles had been on his way home when he realized that he was starving. He knew it was a little morbid – he’d just seen pictures of Harris’s body all blackened by goo and frozen in fear – but he couldn’t help it. The curly fries were calling his name.

He made a slight detour, pulling into the parking lot of Joe’s Burgers and hopped out so he could go in and order. When he walked in he almost ran into Danny. The brunette gave him a slightly irritated but amused look, and then ignored him so he could place his own order at the counter.

Stiles was next in line, and all he ordered was a large side of curly fries, so he stood behind Danny while they both waited for their food. Stiles decided to try and break the ice. “You got out of school pretty quick.” He tried, and Danny barely blinked. “Hey, do you know if Lydia’s still throwing her party? I mean, I know it’s a little weird, considering Harris is dead and everything, but-,” suddenly Danny whipped around to give Stiles a confused, surprised look.

“What about Harris? I thought it was just some cougar corpse,” he paused, and then looked over Stiles’s shoulder. “Yo Jackson!” He called out and Stiles held himself back from reaching over and strangling Danny. If there was anyone he hated more than he’d hated Harris, it was Jackson Whittemore. “Stilinski says the body they found was Harris’s.” He said as soon as Jackson approached.

He gave Stiles a withering glare. “Of course Stilinski says that, he’d say anything to get a little attention.”

Stiles bristled, feeling an overwhelming urge to punch Jackson in his pretty boy face. But he held himself back. Instead he just said, “Always a pleasure to see you, Jackson.” And just then, the worker behind the counter called out Danny’s order, and a few seconds later Stiles’s order as well. “My dad’s partner is the one that found him. Harris is dead.” Stiles said seriously, and then lazily saluted the two boys before turning and leaving the establishment.

Two minutes later Stiles got a text from Lydia; the Halloween party at her house was still going to happen. On the one hand Stiles still wanted to go – but on the other hand he knew how stupid he’d be if he left the house that night. Or any night ever again.

Him, Scott, and Isaac would all go over to Derek’s where the officer with a firearm and a license to kill (yes, a license to kill, get over how obscenely cheesy that sounds) was their own personal body guard. One who may or may not know more than what they did about what was going on.

«†»


	10. Chapter 10

When Derek finally got through with the crime scene – filling out all the paperwork necessary – he asked the sheriff if he was okay with Derek leaving work a little bit early. John seemed hesitant at first, but he resigned, understanding that Derek probably wanted to be at home with his sisters tonight.

By the time he got home it was around four o’clock, so both of his sisters were there too. As soon as he walked through the front door Cora greeted him. “I just got a text from Erica telling me that Mr. Harris is dead, is it true?” Derek sighed, rubbing soothing fingers against his temples in an attempt to pacify the oncoming headache he would no doubt have after this conversation.

“Cora, go to your room please.” Laura spoke from the top of the staircase. Cora looked like she was about to object but Laura repeated, “ _please_ ,” and their youngest sister rolled her eyes but obeyed. She disappeared up the stairs and into her bedroom, closing the door behind her with a little more force than necessary.

Laura turned to Derek next. “Deaton called. If we’re seriously going up against this sort of Supernatural, I don’t want you going after it. It’s too dangerous.”

Derek sighed. “John’s two sons, and possibly Isaac Lahey, might all be in danger.” He watched as Laura battled with herself; he knew she had a heart, one that condoned saving innocents, but there was another part of her that was reluctant to risk the safety of her family’s wellbeing to do it.

“Stiles and Scott?” She asked, and Derek nodded. “And Isaac?” He nodded again. She pursed her lips. “How’d they manage to get themselves tangled up in this?”

“Stiles was there last night at Harris’s. He told me he was alone but his heart said otherwise. I figure since Scott and him are attached at the hip, Scott was there too. But Scott’s been using Isaac as his alibi. So, whether Isaac was with them last night or not, obviously he’s still a part of this, if not just because he wants to be there for Scott.” He explained.

Laura frowned. “Wait, Scott and Stiles… _saw_ it?” Derek nodded, taking a deep breath in.

“They never should’ve made it out of there alive.” Harris saved their lives – maybe without the intention of sacrificing his own in the process, but when Stiles and Scott were on the brink of death, Harris had interrupted.

Laura was silent for a long while, a calculating distance in her eyes. Finally she said, “Call them and get them to come over. I’ll call Deaton and get him to bring whatever he can to help us kill it.”

Derek frowned; he hadn’t realized they were going to _kill_ it; even if it was a dangerous Supernatural being. “We’re going to kill it?” He asked, and his sister gave him a hard look.

“If we don’t kill it Stiles and Scott will die. Basilisks aren’t exactly known for their generosity in sparing the lives of their prey.” And then she turned and walked back up the stairs, leaving Derek alone in the silence of the house.

He’d never heard of a Basilisk – though he was sure he’d heard Cora mention it a few times while reading Harry Potter. Deaton had explained that what they were facing wasn’t the generally acknowledged type of Basilisk. The one roaming the streets of Beacon Hills, killing innocents and stalking teenagers, was originally based in Southern Africa.

Its gaze was paralyzing, but only for as long as you held it. Its eyes were gaping black holes, and its skin was leathery and worn. Though its movements and facial features were extremely serpentine, it wasn’t a snake; not physically anyways. It was a monster masquerading in humanoid form. And it never forgot a face.

Stiles and Scott were in danger, and Derek needed to protect them. Not just because John was his partner or because he felt it was somehow his duty – Derek wanted to keep them safe. He _wanted_ to help them. Derek was a werewolf, he had abilities that could be used for the greater good, rather than in the pursuit of power, like his Uncle Peter had done.

No. Derek wasn’t like that. And Scott and Stiles were just kids. So yes, he was going to keep them safe. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t at least _try_.

«†»

When Stiles got home he’d found the house empty. He checked his phone to see that Scott had left him a message, explaining that Isaac’s mother had asked for Isaac to go home, and that Scott had gone to drop him off.

Stiles went upstairs to his bedroom, clicking on his computer and typing in his password to unlock it. As soon as he was logged in he pulled open the Internet and began typing manically into Google Search. He searched _paralysis_ and _black ooze_ , and at one point got fed up and typed in _getting paralyzed by some weird dude in a hoodie and screaming and running away and the next day your teacher winds up dead with black ooze coming out of his face; what the fuck should I do?_

Suffice it to say there were zero search results.

Stiles ran a hand through his hair, anxiety and stress building up inside of him. He needed to figure this out. Researching was what he was good at; it’s what he brought to the table. Scott had his puppy dog eyes and crooked but adorable jawline, Isaac had his overwhelming sweetness, Boyd had his burly but lovable and intimidating appearance (not to mention he also had various ins when certain objects needed acquiring – he had more sources than an encyclopedia), Erica had her sexiness and overall drive to succeed, and Stiles had his computer.

So, when the computer was giving him absolutely nothing, he resolved to bury his face into his pillow and wallow in self-pity until whatever it was came back to finish what it’d started.

Luckily, Scott got home first.

“Dude, why didn’t you answer your phone?” Scott asked as he barged into Stiles’s room. Stiles groaned, the sound of it muffled by his pillow and the covers he’d thrown over himself in an attempt to blink himself out of existence entirely. “Derek called, we have to get over there ASAP.” He nudged Stiles’s leg and Stiles tried his absolute hardest to be consumed by his bed. “I’m serious! He said if we don’t get there by four thirty he’s gonna drive over here himself and haul us away over his shoulder.”

“Hey man, I wouldn’t mind being thrown over his shoulder.” Stiles said and Scott groaned in annoyance.

“Stiles, there isn’t any time for your jokes, we have to get over to the Hale’s.” Scott practically whined, grabbing hold of Stiles’s leg and shaking it. Stiles would not be swayed. He did not want to move. He did not want to talk. He did not want to _do_.

“I wasn’t joking,” he mumbled. Suddenly Scott let go of his leg, and Stiles, being keenly aware of how suspicious that was, cautiously raised his head and peeked out from under the covers. Scott was standing over him, puppy dog eyes at full power. Stiles quickly retreated. “No.” He said, and Scott whined.

“Stiles, please. You’re the one who said this was the best thing to do. I mean, he _believes us_. He’s an officer of the law and he freakin’ believes us. That doesn’t happen every day.” Scott’s voice was warm and laced with a plea that Stiles couldn’t ignore. He groaned out his frustrations and threw the covers away from him.

“Fine. But just so you know, I’m pretty sure Derek’s got glowing blue eyes. Which makes him not trustworthy.” Stiles announced. Scott looked confused.

“Uhh, I’m pretty sure Derek has green eyes.” Scott replied and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Actually, they’re hazel. But that’s not what I’m talking about. They were literally _glowing_ , like little glowsticks… or fireflies.” Scott just stared at him with a blank expression on his face. Stiles gave up, standing from his bed and grabbing his bag from where it rested beside his desk. “Let’s just go.” Scott smiled and made his way towards the front door, Stiles following at a distance.

He was still unsure about all of this, but Derek really was their best hope. He’d accepted Stiles’s story so readily… like he knew something that Stiles didn’t. And that made Stiles nervous, but it also made him extremely curious.

«†»

When they pulled up to the Hale house Stiles felt strange, like he was having an out of body experience. He was lightheaded, and his fingers and toes tingled; all the hair on his arms stood up at gravity-defying angles. He looked over at Scott, who was grimacing.

“Do you…?” Stiles started to ask, but his words became jumbled. A thick heaviness settled in the center of his stomach, spreading until his entire body felt rotted from the inside out. He tried to swallow but there was a lump in his throat, and his mouth was dry.

He could feel his heart hammering in his chest; and he got the sudden urge to scream. It welled up inside of him, but he held it at bay. His vision began to blur, and the world around him began to darken. There was something inside of him that felt _wrong_ , but every time he tried to put his finger on it, it’d slip away beyond his reach.

He couldn’t control it. And the moment he realized that, he lost what little control he’d had over his mind.

He could not think. He could not speak. His entire brain had gone rogue on him, and he couldn’t fight it.

He looked over at Scott, but only found an empty seat. Frantically he looked around, calling out for Scott. When he looked at the trees, their branches seemed to extend towards him like claws. He locked all the doors of his jeep, reaching into his pocket to try and grab his phone to call for help. But his phone was gone. He could’ve sworn he’d had it in his hands a second ago – but it was gone.

There was a loud _thud_ from the roof. Stiles looked up at it with wide, panicked eyes. He could feel his lungs beginning to shrink; he gasped for breath that didn’t seem to be there. _There was something on the roof and it was trying to get him. Trying to kill him._

Stiles fumbled for the keys, twisting the ignition. The jeep rumbled to life, and all he could think was – _I have to get out of here, I have to get out of here, I have to get out of here_. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and the jeep lurched forward. His clouded vision cleared up only a moment before he saw bricks and realized he was about to crash into a house. He swerved, turning the wheel as quickly and abruptly as possible.

And in the last few moments he remained conscious, he remembered seeing two glowing blue eyes. And then the front of his jeep wrapped around a tree, and all he could see was blackness.

«†»


	11. Chapter 11

“What the _hell_ is going on?” Cora asked, her voice shaking. Derek had Stiles in his arms and he was carrying him into the living room where Laura had brought Scott. The couch was being occupied by Scott’s unconscious body, which only left the floor for Stiles.

“Cora I need you to grab the med kit from the upstairs bathroom. Derek, bring Stiles into my bedroom.” Laura commanded. She’d grabbed a couple of towels from the kitchen, ran them under cold water, and was placing one folded up on Scott’s forehead. Stiles was burning up too, his face flushed a deep crimson. There were several cuts and scrapes on Stiles’s face and arms from the crash, but as far as Derek could tell that had been the extent of the damage.

The jeep had taken most of the force; the front of it had almost been completely flattened.

“We have a med kit?” Cora asked. Derek growled at her; there wasn’t time for questions, Stiles needed attention right _now_.

“Under the sink, behind the shampoo and pipes. Aunt Alice used to keep it just in case for Uncle Dmitri. Now go, please.” Laura ordered, and Cora disappeared without another word. Derek followed Laura up the stairs to her bedroom, and then over to her bed where he carefully lowered Stiles down. “Deaton’s on his way.” Laura said as she rested one of the damp towels on Stiles’s forehead. “What the hell happened out there?”

Derek wasn’t entirely sure how to answer his sister’s question. He’d called Scott to let him know that it was time for him, Stiles, and Isaac to make their way over to the house, and then about five minutes after he’d made the call he’d gotten a heavy feeling in his gut, which told him to go outside and check the perimeter of the house.

As soon as he got outside he caught a strong smell of the same thing he’d sniffed on Harris’s dead body, so he followed it. It led him around the house, into the forest a few hundred paces, and then back around to the house, which was confusing. But as soon as he’d arrived back he’d heard Stiles’s jeep ambling down the driveway towards the house.

He should’ve realized that the two were connected; but he hadn’t really been thinking about it. He was so intent on finding the source of the smell – which was probably the Basilisk, and up until this point had been exceptional at avoiding Derek’s attempts to track it – he didn’t even notice when Stiles’s jeep came to a full stop but the engine remained on.

When Derek rounded to the front of the house he saw Scott stumbling up the stairs to the house, tripping and attempting to crawl the rest of the way. He’d been muttering something under his breath – something that sounded a lot like, “ _I’m so sorry Isaac, I’m so sorry_.” Derek began towards Scott but was cut off by the flash of something big and blue in his peripherals. The jeep just barely missed him, crashing into a nearby tree instead.

He ran over to the driver’s side door, seeing Stiles slowing slumping forward on the steering wheel. He was barely conscious, his eyes fluttering open and closed clumsily as he fought to stay awake. Derek tore the door off its hinges, literally – he’d pay to get it repaired later. Not that it really mattered considering the entire front of the jeep looked to be beyond repair anyways.

He pulled Stiles’s limp body out of the jeep and called for his sisters to help him.

“I don’t know what happened Laura. I caught the Basilisk’s scent and tried to hunt it down but it led me in a circle, back to the house. And when I got here the two of them were already… freaking out. Stiles tried to _run me over_.” He paused, frowning at the unconscious boy lying on the bed. He knew he and Stiles had their differences, but he never thought the guy _hated_ him enough to try and commit murder. “And Scott was having an unusual amount of difficulty trying to climb up a couple stairs.”

Laura pursed her lips, frowning down at Stiles in consternation. “The bloody thing is _fucking_ with us.” She growled. Derek tilted his head at her.

“Wait… you think… it led me on a wild goose chase and somehow persuaded Stiles to gun in it my general direction?” Derek asked, and after a few moments Laura nodded. She reached over and stroked Stiles’s forehead, running her fingers through his wild hair in an attempt to get it off of his face completely.

“I think Stiles and Scott managed to slip away from death’s reach once, but it still has a hold on them. Like passing through shadows, or surviving a traumatic experience. The horror can never truly leave you.” Laura’s gaze grew distant, and just as Derek decided to give her a little space – he knew how hard the fire had hit her; haunted her – Cora knocked on the door and peeked in.

“He’s not too hurt, is he?” She asked, her voice wavering. Laura and Derek exchanged a small glance before Laura turned to smile comfortingly at their youngest sister. She motioned for Cora to join her by Stiles’s side.

Cora walked over, staring at Stiles’s face with a mixture of worry and sadness in her eyes. She held out the small med kit to Laura, who took it gingerly and cracked it open while Cora rounded to the other side of the bed.

“When Deaton gets here he can do a full examination of both of them. For now all we can do is make sure they don’t overheat, and clean them up a little.” Laura paused and looked over at Cora. “I’m sure they’ll be okay.” She smiled, and Cora’s smile was weak and small, but it was still there.

Cora knelt down beside the bed and rested her elbows on the sheets next to Stiles. Derek lingered only a few moments longer, wanting to stay by Stiles’s side, but also knowing that Scott was in an equal amount of danger. “I’m going to check on Scott. When Deaton gets here I’ll send him up to you.” He said, and his sister nodded at him. Cora reached over, tentatively stroking Stiles’s forehead much in the same way Laura had been earlier.

Derek silently slipped out of the room, down the stairs, and into the living room. When he got there he looked down at Scott, watching the way his eyelids fluttered, like he was having a dream. Or perhaps, considering everything, a nightmare.

He reached down and picked up the towel on Scott’s forehead, placing the palm of his hand there instead. Scott’s hair was a little damp, as was his skin, but he was still burning up. Derek ran the towel under colder water and placed it back onto Scott’s forehead.

He heard the younger boy’s phone ringing, and carefully slipped it out of his jacket pocket to see who was calling. It was Isaac, and it was the first time Derek realized that the other boy hadn’t been with Scott or Stiles upon arrival. He quickly pressed the answer button and held the phone to his ear.

“Isaac? Where are you?” He asked, and there was a fairly long pause on the other end, which had Derek dreading the worst. Before it stretched on too long, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“Derek? Why do you have Scott’s phone?” Isaac asked, and Derek let out a breath of relief.

“It’s complicated,” Derek answered, and then, “You weren’t with them last night.” There was another pause.

And then a sigh. “No. I wasn’t. But that doesn’t mean they did anything wrong! And if you think I’m just gonna let you terrorize them until they tell you anything, then you’re wrong. Because I will fuck your shit up Derek.” Isaac almost shouted. Derek smirked. Isaac was usually a quiet, polite sort of kid, but apparently if you messed with his boyfriend he was extremely unforgiving.

“Relax. I’m not terrorizing your boyfriend. If anything, your boyfriend’s second boyfriend is terrorizing me.” He flashed back to the silly string incident, having Stiles blushing and in between his legs, and he half-smiled to himself. And then he remembered that the same boy was now lying unconscious in his sister’s bed, bloody and possibly broken.

The smile vanished.

“Yeah, I think he’s got a crush on you, to be honest.” Isaac said, and Derek, despite his best efforts, blushed and cleared his throat.

“Anyways, Scott and Stiles are at my house. You need to stay where ever you are, and you need to not go out tonight, understood?” Derek asked. Isaac scoffed.

“Let me talk to Scott.” He ordered.

Derek looked over at Scott; he was still asleep. “Can’t. He’s in the bathroom.”

“Fine then, let me talk to Stiles.” Isaac tried, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen either.

“Stiles is indisposed at the moment.” Derek said, and the other boy made a frustrated noise on the other end of the line.

“Just tell Scott to call me.” He grumbled and hung up, without saying goodbye. Derek sighed and placed the phone on the end table. He sat there in silence, listening to Scott’s heart beat as well as Stiles’s from upstairs. Both were slowly beginning to even out.

Deaton showed up about a half an hour later, and immediately went upstairs to look after Stiles, who seemed to need immediate medical attention because of the crash. When Deaton came back down, Laura was with him, and the two of them were talking in low, hushed tones.

“Isn’t there anything we can do? Does it have a weakness? Does Mountain Ash work on it?” Laura paused. “I need to call the Argents. They need to know about this, if only to keep them from blaming us for what might happen tonight.”

“What might happen tonight?” Derek asked. Deaton looked over at him but Laura ignored his question entirely.

“You check up on Scott, I’ll make the call.” And then she disappeared into the kitchen.

Deaton approached and Derek stood to greet him. “Is Stiles okay?” He asked, and after a small moment Deaton nodded.

“Yes, he’ll heal. With time. He’s not in a coma, so he should wake up when his body deals with the exhaustion of whatever stress he’s been through. I saw the jeep outside – it’s a wonder the boy isn’t dead. A few scrapes, cuts, and bruises, and a broken arm, but that’s it.” He looked down at Scott. “I set the bone and wrapped it, but he’ll need to go to the hospital to see a real Doctor. After all, I _am_ just a Veterinarian.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Deaton was a little more than just a Vet, but he wouldn’t argue. “Thank you for coming.” Derek could breathe a little easier knowing that Stiles and Scott wouldn’t remain unconscious for too much longer.

“I had no choice really, it seems we have a problem that needs immediate attention.” Deaton pulled out his stethoscope and held it up against Scott’s chest. The room was silent, allowing Deaton to properly analyze Scott’s breathing and heart condition. “How much do you know about Basilisks, Derek?”

Derek snorted. “Not much.”

Deaton nodded, taking the stethoscope out of his ears and taking a deep breath of his own. “They feed off their victim’s fear and anguish. They have no visible eyes but their gaze can paralyze a person so that they may feed on them without struggle. Once they choose their prey, they will not rest until that prey has been… extinguished.”

Derek swallowed hard. “Does that mean… it’s not going to stop hunting Stiles and Scott?”

Deaton nodded. “Regretfully, yes. That’s exactly what it means.” Derek crossed his arms.

“Then it needs to die.”

«†»


	12. Chapter 12

“Stiles?” Stiles heard someone faintly calling out to him. His head was a little fuzzy, but he managed to blink open his eyes. When his vision cleared, he saw Scott standing over him. “Are you okay man?” Stiles tried to lift up his head and winced, his body tensing as a bolt of pain shot through his neck and his arm.

“What the hell?” He whimpered. He looked up at Scott, frowning. “Where are we?” He asked, not recognizing the ceiling; though most ceilings tended to all look the same, he was almost positive he hadn’t seen this one yet.

Scott looked over his shoulder, said something too quietly and quickly for Stiles’s brain to catch, and then peered back down at Stiles. “We’re at Cora’s house. The Hale house. Do you remember anything that happened before we got here?” He asked, and Stiles paused.

He closed his eyes and tried to think – for the most part he just felt disoriented and nauseous, but slowly his memory became clearer. He remembered driving to the Hale house with Scott, and then he’d felt strange… and they made it to the house except as soon as they got there, everything seemed to intensify, and Stiles…

He’d seen things, and heard things… and it’d all seemed so _real_ but not, at the same time.

“I feel like I just had a really bad acid trip.” Stiles replied, and tried to sit up. Scott reached over to grab hold of his shoulders, helping his brother right himself. At first Stiles’s head felt like it was swimming, and there was a dull ache, but he did his best to ignore it. He looked around the room – which was obviously a bedroom, though he didn’t know whose – to see all the Hales in various positions, all staring at him.

He looked down at his arm to see why it seemed heavier, and a little numb. He found it in a sling, cradled close to his body.

“Deaton did as much as he could to make sure you weren’t going to be able to move that thing around too much.” Laura, the oldest of the Hales, said as she sat down on the bed beside him.

“It’s broken.” Derek added, and when Stiles looked over at him the older man looked away, studying the wall with a suspicious amount of scrutiny. “Your jeep’s worse though.” Derek added, and Stiles felt his heart drop. _No. Not his baby. Not his poor, poor baby._

“Something was attacking me. And I just…” Stiles trailed off, allowing the memory to overcome him. He’d felt so afraid…

Laura rested her hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “What was attacking you Stiles? Did you see it? Hear it?” She asked, and he shook his head.

“No… it was… on the roof of my car. I couldn’t see it, not _really_. But it was there. I could,” he paused, cautiously glancing around the room, determining if the next thing he said would make them all think he was just some raving lunatic who’d totalled his car, “ _sense_ it. Just like last night outside of Harris’s house.” Stiles shuddered and Laura patted his arm soothingly.

Stiles looked down at his hands, saw them trembling.

“We need to take you to the hospital.” Laura explained, “You need to get your arm properly looked after.” Stiles winced at the steady throb that extended throughout his entire arm, but he shook his head.

If he went to the hospital that meant both of their parents would find out that he’d gotten into an accident. They’d ask him all sorts of questions he didn’t know how to answer, and then they’d probably lock him up in his room for the rest of his life.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Derek glowered, “You’re going to the hospital. You don’t get a choice in the matter.” He crossed his arms stubbornly, puffing out his chest in an intimidating display of authority.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m fine,” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand to prove his point, but instead wobbled and almost fell over. Scott quickly came to his aid, grabbing a hold of his shoulders and guiding him back to the bed. Stiles sat down and tried not to feel too embarrassed.

“Clearly,” Derek snorted, crossing the room to grab Stiles and lean him back down onto the bed. “Right now you need to time rest, but after that I’m driving you to the hospital. And you’re not going to complain or be stubborn about it.” He ordered. There was a challenge in his eyes that Stiles was tempted to press, but Scott nudged his leg and gave him pleading look.

“Co-operate, please.” Scott asked, and all the fire extinguished in Stiles’s gut. He sighed as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Fine. But only if you guys tell us what’s going on.” Stiles said, watching Derek’s expression closely to see if he could catch any admission that he knew more than he was saying. There was a small twitch in his lips, and he glanced over at Laura. Stiles followed his gaze and saw that her lips were pursed, and she was watching Stiles just as closely as he was watching her.

“We only know as much as you do Stiles.” Her voice was firm, but there was still something in her voice that sounded off.

“No,” Stiles said – if Derek was allowed to demand answers, Stiles had every right to do the same. “Derek’s been dodging me all day. I _know_ he knows more than he’s letting on, and so do you.” Laura met his hard stare with one of her own. “I saw his eyes glow. He’s a fuckin’ flashlight.”

She wasn’t going to back down easily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, but there was no innocence in her words. It was a challenge. A dare for him to overstep himself.

He looked over at Derek, saw a flash of worry in his eyes. Scott wore the same expression. Stiles sighed.

“I’m not an idiot. I know you might think that,” Stiles looked over at Derek, “especially you. But I’m not. Something real is happening, something weird. Scott and I have been having the same nightmares and episodes. This isn’t a coincidence.”

“All you need to know is that you’re safe here.” Cora interjected before her sister could argue the point.

“Being safe implies that there’s something out there that’s dangerous.” Stiles countered. Cora’s eyes widened for a moment. Laura shot her a look over her shoulder, silencing her younger sister. When she looked back over at Stiles, she didn’t look impressed.

“You’re right. There is something dangerous out there, and it’s coming after you and your brother. But it’s not the only threat you need to worry about. You, asking all these questions, will lead you down a path there’s no coming back from. The only thing you need to be asking is, is it worth it?” Laura asked. The weight of her gaze fell on Stiles.

“Laura!” Derek growled in warning, but she ignored him.

Stiles wasn’t really sure what she meant, but he knew he needed to know. “Tell me.”

Laura stared at him for a long time – no one said anything. Finally she peered at her family from over her shoulder, motioning for them to leave. Cora left willingly, leading Scott out with her. Derek resolutely remained.

“This can’t happen Laura,” he said, “You can’t tell him.” Stiles face heated with anger. He didn’t know what Derek’s deal was, why he always seemed to treat Stiles like a child. “You honestly trust him to keep our secret?”

Laura closed her eyes for a moment. When they reopened, they were crimson red. Stiles startled, but composed himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen this trick, after all. She looked over at her brother.

“Leave.” She ordered firmly. Derek’s face went white. He frowned, glaring at Stiles before sneering at his sister. “If I have to ask you again, you won’t like what happens next.” She growled. Derek snarled back at her, but obeyed. He slammed the door shut behind him.

Laura was silent for a moment. She crawled into the bed beside Stiles, propping herself up with her elbow. She lounged beside him, sighing.

“Alright Stiles, what do you want to know?” She asked. He smiled at her.

“Everything.”

«†»

Derek stomped out of the house. He couldn’t believe his sister. She was always the one saying how important it was that the humans didn’t know about their existence. Now she was telling Stiles? Of all the humans in Beacon Hills, _Stiles_?

He wasn’t a bad kid, but he had the maturity of a six year old hopped up on sugar. A Stilinski knowing about them was almost on par with an Argent knowing about them. John could never find out about Derek being a werewolf.

The sheriff was a good man, but humans tended to shoot first and ask questions later when it came to his kind. John was Derek’s partner. Derek lied to him every single day. He’d even let a few of the smaller cases fall through, tarnishing his perfect record otherwise. Humans made mistakes, so he had to pretend to lose a few.

Telling Stiles was one of the surest ways to expose them.

“Hey,” Scott said. He’d been standing in the doorway for a short time, obviously unsure of what to say to Derek. “Can I join you?”

Derek didn’t reply. Scott took that as permission. He sat down beside Derek on the steps and looked over to the jeep’s crash site.

“I don’t really know what’s going on,” Scott started, “I don’t think I want to, to be honest.”

Derek snorted. “You’re a lot smarter than your brother.”

Scott exhaled a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Probably not, but I do know when to let things go.” Scott picked at deck, peeling splinters from the wood idly. “I don’t know what your sister’s telling him in there, but I do know Stiles. Whatever this is, he won’t say anything. He’s loyal. He’s my best friend. He knows secrets about me that I know he’ll be taking to his grave, because he’s a good guy.”

Derek remained unmoved and unconvinced, but Scott wasn’t lying. He truly believed that Stiles would be able to keep his family’s secret.

“We’ll see.” Derek supplied, and it was enough to appease Scott, for now.

«†»

“That explains _a lot_.” Stiles exclaimed, sitting up in the bed so that he could face Laura. She hadn’t moved, still splayed out lazily. Her nose crinkled as she smiled.

“Doesn’t it though?” She giggled, resting a hand on her cheek. “He wanted to be pirate when he was younger, but he always got seasick when we went out on our family’s boat. I guess becoming a police officer was his last resort.”

Stiles chuckled, imagining Derek in a huge hat with an equally large feather sticking out of it. “Wow.” He shook his head – the mental image was too much for him to handle.

“Yeah, well, life doesn’t always end up how you figure it will.” She motioned at him. “You’re proof of that. Ever think we’d be having this conversation?”

Stiles shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re terrifying, even without the werewolf background.”

Stiles admitted that he didn’t see that coming. Werewolves in Beacon Hills? He’d never completely rejected the idea that supernatural beings could exist – he’d always found mysterious creatures fascinating – but the Hales? They were most well-known for their long history of inhibiting the town since its first establishment. They were one of the oldest families in Beacon Hills besides the Argents.

“You’re really weird,” Laura stated and smiled. “Not in a bad way, but I expected a little more… surprise? Maybe even amazement? You haven’t even tried to call me crazy, or a monster. It’s quite endearing, actually, how you’re not lighting a torch and getting a pitchfork to run us out of town.”

“You’re werewolves, not monsters of Frankenstein. Besides, I think it’s cool.” He shrugged nonchalantly. He was still getting used to the idea, but finally knowing what made the Hales so mysterious was pretty satisfying. Knowing that werewolves existed opened up an entirely new and dangerous world to him. “What else is out there?”

Laura thought about that for a moment. “There’s actually quite a bit. I don’t know how many werewolves there are, beyond my family, but I do know there can be things called Kanimas, Kitsunes, and Shapeshifters. Honestly, Deaton knows more than I do. He’s an Emissary – kind of like a kick ass Shaman.”

Stiles frowned. “Deaton? As in Alan Deaton, the Veterinarian?” Laura nodded.

Another thing to blow Stiles’s mind.

“And, of course, there are Basilisks.” Laura continued, biting at her lip. “That’s what’s after you and Scott, and Isaac if he’s seen it. Has he?”

That was one thing Stiles could feel good about – Isaac wasn’t in danger. “No, he was never with us. I just used him as an alibi to try and get Scott of the hook, which apparently I can’t.” He let out a huff of frustration. This was all his fault for making Scott go with him to Harris’s house. “I fucked up.”

He rubbed at his face and fought the tears that threatened to choke him up. He felt like an idiot. Laura began rubbing his back, soothing some of his internal anguish. “This isn’t your fault Stiles. You didn’t know about any of this.” She paused. “I admit it wasn’t exactly _smart_ to throw an egg at the thing, but hey, we all do dumb shit when we’re teens.”

Stiles sniffled, shaking his head. “I seem to do it a lot more than your average hot-blooded American teen.”

Laura shrugged. “I once cut another girl’s ponytail off because she asked Todd Skylar out she knew that I had already called dibs on him.”

Stiles choked on an abrupt laugh. “What? That’s terrible!”

She laughed. “I know! I was a little shit! Teacher couldn’t pin it on me though, because they couldn’t find any scissors on me.” She reached out and Stiles watched as claws extended from her fingernails. Somewhat gross, but epically cool. “My parents grounded me for a month.”

Stiles smiled, feeling better knowing that Laura was trying to comfort him. She didn’t have to. She didn’t need to tell him any of this. But she did. He didn’t know why, but he would never betray her trust. He would protect her and her family, like they were protecting him and his.

«†»

Derek and Scott headed back inside when Derek heard Laura and Stiles coming down the stairs. He avoided eye contact with Stiles completely, only shooting mean glances at his sister when he was sure she wasn’t looking. She still saw.

“Derek, if you’re going to act like a petulant child, you can go to your room.” Laura said as she and Stiles wandered through the house, into the kitchen. Cora had already managed to find her way into the kitchen fridge earlier, and began preparing for dinner. That spelled disaster. Derek led Scott into the kitchen, ready to intervene.

“I hope everyone likes mac and cheese!” She sang happily. Derek’s nose scrunched up in disgust. He pushed her out of the way, putting the boxes of Kraft Dinner back into the cupboard and retrieving garlic instead. He shot her an unimpressed look and she rolled her eyes. “Sorry Chef, didn’t mean to insult your taste buds.”

“Derek cooks?” Stiles asked, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“He doesn’t cook,” Cora answered, and then dramatically swept the back of her hand across her forehead, “he _creates_.” Derek threw a clove of garlic at her, which she easily dodged.

“Out.” He grumbled. She sighed.

“Whatever.” She left without a fuss, probably happy to be rid of him.

“Instead of starting a food fight, maybe we can help you with dinner?” Scott asked, but Laura began ushering him and Stiles out of the kitchen.

“Derek doesn’t like help cooking,” Laura said. She wasn’t wrong. Laura didn’t know how to do anything other than burn things, and Cora ended up burning herself more than anything else. His sisters would be happy eating boxes of mac and cheese every day, but Derek wouldn’t let that happen, which is why he took up cooking in the first place.

After they left him alone, he got to work. Slicing garlic into thin strips, laying out a sheet of tin foil on a baking sheet where he slathered oil and seasoning on chicken breasts, and chopped up bell peppers. He roasted the vegetables – opting to include potatoes in the meal, because potatoes were delicious. After a while an aroma spread through the house, which enticed half the household to him.

Laura stuck her nose in the doorway, inhaling deeply. “Smells so good.” She groaned, crossing over to the cupboards. She pulled out plates and cutlery and set the table. Stiles entered soon after, practically licking his lips.

“Okay, so now that the wolf’s out of the bag,” Stiles said, and he looked _way_ too pleased with himself, “Can we talk about what our plan is for tonight?” Laura took a seat at the head of the table, patting the place setting beside hers to have Stiles join her. He complied, and Derek felt a twinge of irritation. He didn’t know what he found more annoying: the fact that Stiles actually listened to an order, or how chummy the two of them were getting.

“Deaton will be here before sundown, and the Argents are sending a few of their agents to help kill the Basilisk.” Laura answered. Derek felt odd, her being so open around a human. “The Argents are hunters. Usually they kill our kind, but they had an agreement with our parents. We don’t hunt humans, they don’t hunt us. So far we’ve managed not to kill anyone, but they always assume we’re behind all the murders in Beacon Hills.”

“Seems like a terrible place for you guys to live then,” Stiles said, “having them right around the corner is kind of dangerous, isn’t it? What if they decide that your word isn’t good enough anymore?”

“We grew up here,” Laura answered. Derek had fond memories of this town and his family, ones that hadn’t burned away with their parents. “They’ve been accommodating, but the moment that changes we’ll probably have to relocate.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, sounding more than a little disappointed. Derek stole a glance at him, caught a glimpse of sadness flitter across his face. “That sucks.”

Laura laughed. “Yeah, but we have to do what we can to survive, which is why we don’t normally tell people about our true nature. You’re a rare case Stiles. Feel special.”

“Oh, I do,” he smirked, and the two of them exchanged a knowing look. Derek’s face twisted into a frown. He ignored his sister and Stiles while he pulled the chicken out of the oven. He turned everything off and carried the food over to the table.

“Dinner’s done.” Derek announced, peeling off the oven mitts and tossing them on the counter. He sat down across from his sister, and began serving himself. Scott and Cora joined them, and they began to eat dinner, carrying on conversations that Derek felt he had no part of.

At least it was amusing to watch Stiles try to eat with his offhand.

«†»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the plan since my last plan was foiled by my inability to follow through with plans.
> 
> I'm going to update this fic every Sunday until Halloween, which will be my last chapter for this fic. This chapter constitutes this Sunday's update, a few days early because I want to celebrate the fact that it's OCTOBER 1st!!! Yay Halloween!!!


	13. Chapter 13

Deaton arrived exactly at seven o’clock. He brought with him an assortment of corked bottles filled with liquids and powders, strange artifacts, and a large, leather bound book that smelled distinctly of vellum. Scott, being the only one who didn’t know the truth about Deaton, was extremely confused when the Vet showed up.

Instead of explaining things to him, they just said Deaton was a close family friend who helped them deal with these kinds of situations. Scott blessedly didn’t ask any more questions.

Stiles, on the other hand, had quite a few.

“What is all of this?” He asked once Cora and Laura had taken Scott into the next room. “Is this going to stop the Basilisk?”

Deaton gave Derek a dry look of surprise. He tilted his head towards Stiles. “This is all extremely dangerous. I don’t know if it’s going to be enough to stop the creature permanently, but it’ll help slow it down.”

Stiles nodded. Derek thought that was the end of it – he _prayed_ it was – but Stiles kept staring at Deaton. Finally, he opened his mouth. “So, you’re like, what? A veterinarian for werewolves?”

Derek closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No.”

Deaton chuckled. “Sometimes I supply certain herbs to help with their natural healing processes, yes. But I am not just a healer. I’m also a wealth of supernatural knowledge. It’s my responsibility to the Hale family to guide them when they’re unsure of how to proceed.”

“Oh! So you’re an informant. Or, I guess, a councillor.” Stiles tried, attempting to put the pieces together.

Deaton smirked. “I do council them, yes.”

“Cool.” Stiles nodded. “Cool, cool, cool.” The teen awkwardly trailed off as his attention transfixed on what Deaton was preparing on the kitchen table. He’d pulled out a few bottles and had begun mixing different substances together in a pestle. “What’s that?” Stiles asked, pointing to the root Deaton had in his hand.

Deaton’s concentration broke and he raised an eyebrow at Derek.

Derek took the hint. “Alright Stiles, this isn’t show and tell.” He grabbed Stiles’s uninjured shoulder and began leading him out of the room. “Deaton’s gotta focus.” Stiles started to protest but Derek steered him away against his will. “He can’t do that with you asking a billion different questions.”

“How else am I going to learn anything?” Stiles asked, and Derek scoffed.

“Learn anything? Didn’t you hear him? That stuff he’s got is dangerous. The only thing you need to learn is how to obey orders.” Derek not so gently shoved Stiles up the stairs. Stiles grumbled, finally relenting and allowed Derek to lead him into one of the rooms upstairs.

Derek closed the door behind him while Stiles made himself more than comfortable on Derek’s bed. He sat down without permission. Derek growled.

“Listen, kid,” Derek started, knowing Stiles wouldn’t appreciate the downgrade in maturity, “I’m sure you and my sister had a lovely chat about what we are.” Stiles scoffed.

“Yeah, we did, she’s a lot nicer than you.” Stiles defiantly met Derek’s glare.

“You’re right, she is.” Derek agreed, and then crossed the room to loom over Stiles. “If you tell anyone about what we are there will be dire consequences.” Derek leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of Stiles so he could press his nose almost against Stiles’s. “I respect your father, but if you step out of line I won’t hesitate.”

In his attempts to be intimidating, he didn’t realize his mistake until it was too late.

Stiles, without warning, grabbed the back of Derek’s head and closed the distance between their lips. The sudden act ignited Derek’s wolf in ways he didn’t anticipate.

He struggled to regain control, but it was too late. His wolf was intrigued by Stiles’s display of dominance. It submitted to the tug and press of his lips.

Derek gave in to his baser instincts. He rested his body against Stiles’s, let the other boy drag him down onto the bed. They somehow ended up horizontal, Derek lying on top of Stiles while Stiles’s free hand explored the length of Derek’s lean back.

Caught up in the heat and exhilaration, Derek ripped off his shirt without breaking contact with Stiles. When Stiles had to pause for breath, Derek dragged his lips across Stiles’s jaw to his neck.

He sucked hard, eliciting a sharp gasp from Stiles. His fingers dug in to Derek’s arm, holding him tight and pulling him closer. Derek’s wolf responded to that eagerly, pressing as close to Stiles as possible. He nibbled his way down to Stiles’s collarbone, mouthing hotly at Stiles’s warm skin.

“N _nn_ ngh,” Stiles moaned, his back arched and his hips crashed against Derek’s. The friction sent a shiver through Derek’s spine. He began to react. He could feel Stiles’s dick even through the constricting jeans he wore, hard against Derek’s thigh.

Derek started to see through the eyes of the wolf. He saw Stiles in shades of red. He _hungered_ for him.

That’s what broke him out. He tore away from Stiles, bolted out of the door without looking back. He escaped through the back door, avoiding his sisters and Scott. Deaton was the only one who saw him, and he didn’t say a word. That’s why Deaton was his favourite.

«†»

Stiles didn’t exactly know what just happened, but he had _really_ enjoyed it. Sure, his broken arm had gotten jostled around a bit, and it was throbbing with pain, but it had been worth it.

He didn’t know what he thought would happen when he grabbed Derek. If he was being honest, he thought the older guy would shove him away. Reprimand him for trying. Anything was better than listening to him threaten bodily harm if Stiles ever told anyone his family’s secret. Which Stiles wouldn’t anyway. And Derek’s face was _right there_ , barely an inch away from his own. He couldn’t help himself.

He just wasn’t expecting Derek to actually _kiss him back_.

With everything that was happening – Stiles finding out about werewolves, and the Basilisk that was hunting him and Scott down – he was happy for the distraction. Not that that’s all Derek was to him, but it was nicer to worry about than imminent death.

He lied on Derek’s bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to neutralize the charged energy that still coursed through him. He remained there, alone, for almost ten minutes before he thought it was safe enough for him to return to Derek’s sisters and Scott. He doubted Derek stuck around, anyways.

Stiles made his way down the stairs and began to wander the main floor. Eventually he found the living room, closer to the front of the house, where the others were gathered. Deaton was probably still in the kitchen, doing his voodoo, or whatever it was. Derek had disappeared, no surprise there.

“Stiles!” Laura said, her face lighting up as soon as he poked his head in the doorway. “About time you joined us! We were literally just talking about you.” She crossed over to him and slung an arm over his shoulder. “Scott was telling us why you guys were at Harris’s house that night,” Laura explained, “Did you seriously try to throw eggs at the guy?”

Cora giggled, covering her mouth to try and stifle herself. Stiles nodded. “Yeah. In hindsight, maybe not one of my better choices.” Maybe if he hadn’t provoked the basilisk, it wouldn’t be so intent on hunting them down and killing them.

“Wait,” Scott frowned, “does that have anything to do with what’s been happening to us?”

Laura and Stiles exchanged a glance. “Well,” Stiles started, but Laura interrupted.

“Not at all, I just think it’s hilarious that he had the balls to egg someone.” She smirked and then led Stiles towards the couch. She sat him down, then took a seat next to him. “Was it bravery or stupidity, I can’t tell.”

“Stupidity.” Scott said, without skipping a beat.

Stiles pouted, but he couldn’t argue.

“In any case, maybe it’s best if you guys just forget about the whole thing for right now,” Laura said, reaching for something on the end table next to her. “Who’s up for a Halloween movie marathon?”

No one objected, so she turned on the television and found a channel that boasted screening the most horrific Halloween movies in all of cinematic history. The first movie they watched was _The Wolf Man_.

Stiles couldn’t manage to fully engage himself in the movie – he had too much on his mind still. Not even a terribly cheesy, ironic film could distract him long enough that he could ignore the pit in his stomach. As the sunlight dimmed, Stiles’s dread grew.

When the movie was over, Laura dismissed herself, returning a few minutes later to beckon Stiles to join her in the hallway. Cora began to make her way over, but one look from Laura had her younger sister pouting and returning to her seat.

Once Stiles and her were in the hall, she led him back into the kitchen where Deaton had been joined by a few people Stiles didn’t recognize.

“This is him?” One of the men said, nodding in Stiles’s general direction. He didn’t look overly impressed.

“Yes, Chris, this is Stiles. He’s the one you have to protect tonight. Understood?” Laura asked, her tone void of emotion. It was a direct order. Chris didn’t seem to appreciate being told what to do. He glared between Laura and Stiles, his piercing blue eyes slicing through them. Analyzing them.

“That’s what my family does, isn’t it? Protect those that can’t protect themselves.” He gave Stiles a once over. “This kid definitely fits the description.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the comment, but the guy was holding a loaded crossbow and he didn’t want to get shot in the foot for making a smartass remark. He scanned the room for Derek, but he was nowhere to be seen. “So how are we gonna do this?” Stiles asked, fixing his attention back on Laura.

She nodded at Chris, who begrudgingly obeyed the motion to file out of the room with the other men. She turned to Stiles.

“How comfortable are you with being used as bait?” She asked, her tone completely innocent. Stiles’s heart skipped a beat as he considered it.

“Uhh, well it doesn’t make me feel awesome, that’s for sure.” He sighed, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “I mean, I’ll do it.”

Laura laughed, shaking her head. “Scott was right, definitely stupid.” She crossed her arms, adopting a new stance that emanated _big sister_. “Chris and the other hunters want to use you as bait. I think even the bravest of soldiers wouldn’t be stupid enough to agree to such an idiotic plan. So smarten up, Stilinski, and help me come up with a better one.”

Deaton carried over one of his concoctions. Fog swirled upwards from the substance, and Stiles frowned at it. Deaton pushed it towards him. “Drink this. It should stabilize your hallucinations, to an extent. If the basilisk gets too close, it will be powerful enough to disrupt the magical properties, but that would mean it’s standing right beside to you.”

That sent a shiver up Stiles’s spine. He didn’t want to get anywhere near the basilisk. He turned to Laura.

“Alright, I’ve got a few ideas. You probably won’t like most of them.” Stiles said. Laura smiled.

She leaned forward, thoughtfully resting a hand against her chin. “Alright kid, what’ve you got?”

«†»


End file.
